


Where the Light Won't Find You

by asroarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Flarke, Protective Bellamy, References to Suicide, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Stalking, Strangulation, Suicide Attempt, a looooot of hurt comfort, alright i think i have all the scary tags out of the way, bellarke is beautiful in it, but it's gonna hurt, just... this isn't going to be an easy one to read, more like Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 89,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asroarke/pseuds/asroarke
Summary: “So, I don’t know how to ask this,” he whispered, and Clarke clenched her eyes shut. “It’s not my business, and it’s not like you and I are even friends.”He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t overheard Clarke talking to Marcus about Finn. Most people noticed something was off about Clarke and Finn, but it always got attributed to Clarke being the bitch that broke Finn’s heart. All anyone saw was that Finn still loved Clarke and was doing whatever it took to win her back, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. And that would have been Bellamy’s assumption if he hadn’t overheard a brief glimmer of the truth.“What happened?”A high school AU inspired by a true story.Winner of the 2019 BFWA After Dark for Best Consensual Work in Progress





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been debating for a long time about whether or not I wanted to post this fic. I started writing it because I got triggered a few weeks ago by something that happened to me in high school, and writing is how I've chosen to work through it. So, I'm anxious to post it. It's not like other works of mine. It is a story inspired by unfortunately true events, and as such, nothing is going to be tied up in a neat bow... because that's not how it worked out. 
> 
> I realize this work could be triggering for a lot of people, so I really encourage you all to take the time and consider if reading this is safe for you. There is going to be mentions of a past suicide attempt (though not graphic), sexual assault, and a lot on abusive relationships. I will tag when I think there needs to be a warning and put additional warnings in the author's notes. Please read responsibly. 
> 
> All that being said, because this is all quite triggering for me, I'm writing it as gently as I possibly can. The worst of the story has already happened with where I start in this fic, so the most difficult content to swallow will only appear in references to the year before and memories.

Clarke could feel Finn watching her, but she didn’t dare turn her head to look. She couldn’t feed his delusion that she somehow still loved him. She kept her eyes trained on the roundabout, looking for her mom’s minivan. It wasn’t uncommon for her mother to be late picking Clarke up, especially since Arkadian Preparatory School was so far from the hospital. It’d be easier if Clarke just drove herself to and from school every day, but it wasn’t safe.

She plopped down on the concrete, resting her back against one of the pillars. She was just out of Finn’s view now, meaning he would have to work at staring at her, which he wouldn’t dare do. He was on thin ice at school after last year. When he was on campus, he had to leave Clarke alone. Or at least look like he was leaving Clarke alone… which was the loophole that he exploited every chance he got.

There was only one other person sitting outside waiting to be picked up, Bellamy Blake. He had plopped down under a tree on the other side of the roundabout. He had blue headphones in his ears as he flipped through flashcards.

It was weird that in a class of a hundred… well, less than a hundred since a bunch of students got expelled last year for getting high in their cars before school on 4/20… there was a fellow senior that Clarke knew barely anything about.

Bellamy started at Arkadian in ninth grade, just like Clarke did. Most students started at pre-k, making students like Bellamy and Clarke outsiders. In the first week of ninth grade, Clarke and Bellamy found themselves sitting at the same table for lunch with the rest of the new kids. It was a group of scholarship students or kids whose families just moved here. Then, there were a few people like Clarke, whose mom insisted on sending her to private school after being shamed real good by her fellow rich friends for continuing to send Clarke to public school where they heard rumors of gangs. There were no gangs, of course. Just a lot of obscenely rich white people who used this code to cover up their racism. But she was too young at the time to recognize it, so she didn’t protest when her mother sent her over to Arkadian.

Clarke stopped hanging out with the motley crew of newcomers when she met Finn, who introduced her a whole new friend group. Clarke still didn’t fit in, but that came with the territory of being the new girl and one of the poorest girls at school… which was ridiculous because her mom was a damn doctor. But that was nothing compared to the heiresses, famous musicians, and real estate tycoons that were her classmate’s parents, apparently. She felt so out of place when she went to her first sleepover and the mansion had a literal elevator in it.

If Clarke felt out of place, she couldn’t imagine how the scholarship students like Bellamy felt. She got teased for carrying around a last season Dooney & Bourke that she had saved all her babysitting money to get, so she knew he got hell for the broken-down truck his mom would pick him up in.

Clarke hadn’t realized she was staring at him until his dark brown eyes flitted up to meet hers. She pretended to look for something in her backpack, waiting until she felt the weight of his gaze leave her. Luckily, her mom’s minivan rolled in, giving Clarke an easy exit.

Her mom was on the phone when Clarke slid into the passenger side, and Clarke let out a quiet exhale. That meant they didn’t have to talk to each other. She put her headphones in her ears and rested her forehead on the window.

Her heartrate spiked up when she caught Finn watching them drive away. Clarke jerked her head away, and she managed to go two whole minutes this time before checking to see if Finn was following her. Logically, she knew he wasn’t. It would take him a few minutes to get to his car, and Finn never followed when someone else was in the car with Clarke. Only when Clarke was alone. But she needed to check. She couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. Because the one time she would forget to check for that red jeep would likely be the time that it was there.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t easy to avoid Finn during the day. They had almost identical schedules because of their AP classes, and most of those classes had less than ten people in it. She tried to slow her walk to classes so that she got there after him and she could choose a seat far from him, but it never worked for Spanish. She always got there first no matter how much she delayed, and he always came in after and plopped down right next to her.

Their Spanish teacher was new, meaning she didn’t witness what happened between Clarke and Finn. The Principal Diyoza filled her in, of course, but she didn’t exactly get it. Clarke figured she assumed it was just normal high school drama, which is why she did absolutely nothing when Finn would harass Clarke in class.

“Alright, partner up and start planning next week’s dialogue,” Mrs. Sydney announced, and Clarke felt like her heart would pound itself out of its chest. There were only six people in this class, and she knew that Monty and Harper would partner up.

Before Finn could even open his mouth, Clarke turned around in her desk to look at Bellamy. “Hey, would you be my partner?” Clarke asked as calmly as she could, but even she could hear the way her voice was shaking.

Bellamy was turned sideways in his desk, clearly about to partner up with Murphy. Clarke could barely hear Murphy’s annoyed huff as Bellamy turned his head back to look at her, his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. He spared the briefest of glances over at Finn, who was no doubt fuming that Clarke was trying so hard to get away from him, before looking back at Clarke.

 _Please_ , she wanted to scream.

“Sure, whatever,” he mumbled, and Clarke felt like she could cry from relief.

“What the fuck?” Murphy snapped before Bellamy kicked him in the shins.

“John, do I need to give you another demerit?” Mrs. Sydney snapped.

“Clarke,” she heard Finn whisper while Murphy attempted a half ass apology to Mrs. Sydney. The sound of her name on his lips made her skin crawl. The bell saved her for once, and she grabbed her things as she sprinted to the door.

 

* * *

 

Marcus had this tendency to stomp everywhere he went, meaning Clarke could hear him no matter where he was in the house. In general, having him move in wasn’t that hard to get used to. He was good to her mom and left Clarke alone in the evenings so she could get her homework done. But after years of a silent home, it was weird to have someone so loud here. Clarke had gotten used to being home all alone while her mom finished her shifts at the hospital, and now, she had Marcus Kane stopping by her room every half hour to see if she was hungry for dinner yet.

“I think that’s all we need,” Clarke said to Bellamy over the speakerphone. She wondered if Bellamy could hear Marcus’ loud stomping down the stairs to get to the home phone. But it was probably just her. Most people don’t get this jumpy about loud noises.

“Nope, still missing one subjunctive,” he corrected. Clarke groaned into her desk.

“She said we needed four,” Clarke huffed.

“Nope, she said five.”

“Fine. Let’s just throw another one in while I give you directions,” she grumbled. Their little dialogue was already bizarre. It started with Bellamy asking for directions and ended with Clarke asking him if he’d like to come to her niece’s birthday party. At one point, they get into an argument about soccer teams. As far as a plot goes, it’s pretty much nonsense. But it was the only way they could use all the vocab that Mrs. Sydney required.

Clarke could hear Marcus’ loud stomping up the stairs, and she braced herself for when he knocked on her door. “No, I’ll take it. You have the harder parts to remember,” Bellamy decided, and Clarke certainly wasn’t about to argue.

“Hey, Clarke,” Marcus said, knocking twice before opening the door. “Phone for you.”

“Who is it?” Clarke asked.

“Finn Collins. You go to school with him, right?” Marcus asked, and Clarke sprinted from her desk to grab the phone from his hand and hang up. “What was that for?”

Clarke sucked in a deep breath. “You remember my ex-boyfriend?” she asked, and slowly, recognition washed over his face. “That’s him.”

“Oh, Clarke, I’m so sorry,” he stuttered out. Marcus had been around when everything blew up last year, but he didn’t live here, so he missed a lot of the details. He knew about her ex harassing and stalking her, and he knew what he talked Clarke into attempting, but he just didn’t remember Finn’s name.

“It’s okay,” Clarke reassured, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Just whenever Collins pops up on the caller ID, don’t answer.”

“Maybe I’ll put a sticky note by the phone so I remember that,” he sighed, scratching his beard. “Wait, he’s still bothering you? Should I call the school and—”

“Don’t bother. They’ll just give Finn another talk and he’ll get sneakier,” Clarke muttered, crossing her arms. “It’s not that bad anymore,” she lied.

“Okay,” Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Let me know when you’re ready for dinner.” As soon as he shut her door behind him, Clarke threw her arms over her head and took a deep breath. She was pretty sure Marcus would call the school anyway, and she appreciated the sentiment. But Arkadian wasn’t going to help her… not when the Collins’ family has a presence on the board and is one of the top donors for the school.

“Uh, Clarke,” she heard Bellamy say. Her head snapped toward her desk, spotting her cell phone still on speaker.

“Fuck,” she blurted out as she darted back to the desk. “I forgot that you were on speaker. Sorry, I just had to talk to my mom’s boyfriend about something.”

“That wasn’t just some—”

“Did you figure out where we’re putting the last subjunctive?” Clarke cut him off, fixing her eyes back onto her computer screen.

He was silent for a moment, and Clarke prayed he’d be merciful and let her change the subject. There were only a handful of people who knew how bad things were with Finn. Clarke tried to tell a few friends at school, but they didn’t exactly get the severity. The way they saw it, Finn just wanted her back, and it was kind of sweet how intense he was about getting Clarke back. When Clarke pointed out that he would follow her home, they accused her of making that up.

“I think we should add it in when we’re talking about what dessert I should bring to your niece’s birthday,” Bellamy said, and Clarke let out a breath. Over the next half hour, the two of them finalized the dialogue and ran through it a few times. She could feel him wanting to change the subject, to ask about what is going on with Finn. And she didn’t blame him. There were hundreds of rumors going around the school about what happened last spring and where Clarke had been all summer. Bellamy had to have heard something, so she couldn’t blame him for being curious.

But he didn’t bring it up again, and Clarke was relieved.

 

* * *

 

Clarke knew which days Finn got pulled into the principal’s office to get the “leave Clarke alone” lecture. They were easy to identify because he reacted in one of two ways: avoiding Clarke altogether or spending a day obsessively trying to apologize and to explain that he just wants to make things right. Today was the latter.

He sat right behind her in English, tapping her shoulder obsessively to try to get her attention. He left an apology note in her locker and backpack. Luckily in history, Mr. Pike stepped in and made Finn sit on the other side of the classroom.

But lunch was going to be miserable with him like this, so Clarke decided to skip it. After the bell rang, she powerwalked to the cafeteria, knowing that Finn wouldn’t be far behind. As soon as she was out of his sight, she ducked into the bathroom. She waited until she heard the loud voices in the hallway die down and for most students to be inside the cafeteria for lunch before ducking out, knowing it would be damn near impossible for Finn to spot her sneaking out.

Clarke went to her favorite hiding spot: the theatre. There were no classes anywhere near the stage during lunch, so she won’t run into anyone. She took her usual spot against the wall, just below the light switches. She couldn’t turn any of them on or else someone would figure out she was in here. But it wasn’t like Clarke could do homework or study while she was fighting back a panic attack. So, she just lied on the ground and took deep breaths until it was time for Spanish.

She was the first one in the classroom, and Mrs. Sydney handed Clarke the graded rubric from her and Bellamy’s dialogue yesterday. Clarke furrowed her eyebrows at the flimsy reason Sydney took off two points, annoyed that this was the one teacher who seemed determined to never give Clarke a 100, even if she deserved it. Sure, her dialogue with Bellamy was weird, but it met all the requirements and even included vocab from next week’s chapter.

Clarke was so caught up in glaring at her grade that she didn’t hear someone sit behind her. When she felt the soft tap on her shoulder, Clarke jumped in her seat. _Finn,_ her mind screamed. And she just waited for his pitiful _I love you_ followed by an attempt to touch her again, and Clarke felt like she would throw up.

“Sorry,” she heard Bellamy say, and she let out a breath. It was just Bellamy.

“It’s cool.” She took another deep breath. It wasn’t Finn. She was okay. And maybe if she kept telling herself that, one day it would be true.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Clarke turned around in her seat to look at him. His dark eyes were narrowed at her, looking like he was genuinely worried about her.

“Yeah,” she lied. His jaw ticked a bit, and his hand was gripping the side of his desk. “Are you okay?” she asked, gesturing to his hand. He let go and flexed his fingers, but there was something off about him.

“I’m fine.” His eyes drifted over her shoulder toward the door. Clarke didn’t dare turn around, knowing that it could be Finn walking through the door. “You didn’t show up at lunch today.”

Clarke blinked a few times at him, wondering how he even noticed that. Clarke doubted her own friends even noticed she wasn’t at their table. “I was cramming for physics and decided to skip,” she lied. “I do that all the time.”

“No, you don’t,” he corrected, and part of her wanted to point out that he had no idea what she did or didn’t do. The two of them weren’t close. He barely knew her, and she barely knew him.

“Clarke,” she heard Finn say from the seat right beside her. And judging by the way Bellamy’s hand gripped his desk right as Clarke winced, he now knew why she was lying.

Clarke spun around in her seat, careful not to look in Finn’s direction. Mrs. Sydney had begun passing out today’s quiz, and Clarke quickly got to work, ignoring the panic rising in her chest.

She was the first to turn in the quiz, and she took off toward the bathroom while everyone else kept working. Her hands shook as she braced them on either side of the sink. She flipped on the water and closed her eyes.

“Thirty-six more minutes,” she whispered to herself. She could last thirty-six more minutes. Then, she’d be home free in Physics, where Mr. Sinclair does a great job of keeping Finn the hell away from her.

But when Clarke opened her eyes again, her hands were still shaking. She shut off the water and rested her back against the wall. She tilted her head up to the ceiling. There weren’t enough tiles to count, not like back in her room at the hospital all those months ago. So, she started counting the small specks in one tile. When she got to the first hundred, her hands were still shaking but not quite as bad. At a hundred and fifty, she was calm enough to go back to class.

When she walked back in, the desks had been moved into a circle. She half expected her desk to be right next to Finn with how this day had been going, but it was sitting right between Bellamy and Murphy. She was almost relieved until she got closer and spotted a note on her desk, one covered in Finn’s sloppy handwriting.

Clarke didn’t dare say anything since Mrs. Sydney was in the middle of a lecture. So, she crumpled up the note and dropped it in the trash before taking her seat beside Bellamy and Murphy.

Bellamy turned his notebook in Clarke’s direction, silently showing her what notes she had missed. She copied them quickly, whispering _thank you_ under her breath when she was done. When she finally looked up from her desk, she caught Finn staring right at her with a pitiful look in his eyes, as if he were some kicked puppy.

She clenched her jaw and looked away. Clarke wasn’t going to fall for the same manipulation tactics again. The rest of the school could call her a bitch for throwing away Finn’s love notes and refusing to speak to him, but at least this way she was safe. Well, as safe as she could be while still being stalked.

 

* * *

 

Family dinners were a relatively new thing in this house, one that got forced onto Clarke when she first came home from the hospital. Her mom got a lot of flack for not knowing what was going on with Clarke back then, and she read some article that said family dinners were a good way to have regular check-ins with teenagers. They didn’t happen all that often, just on the nights that her mom wasn’t working.

That meant that Clarke couldn’t just hide up in her room after the horrible day she had. No, she had to set the table and help her mom in the kitchen. She would have to stay up late tonight to get all her homework done since these little dinners tended to suck up two to three hours of her night. More if Clarke showed any sign of depression.

“So, Marcus told me he called the school. Did things get better with Finn?” her mom asked.

“No. He was worse today, trying to apologize,” Clarke mumbled, pushing around the mashed potatoes with her fork.

“Well, an apology doesn’t sound too bad,” Marcus offered.

“He uses apologies to try to worm his way back in with me. First, it’s an apology. Then, he thinks it’s okay to start texting me again,” Clarke tried to explain, but Marcus just looked confused. She tried so hard to see Marcus’ perspective on this, to remember that he has no experience with this kind of thing.

On the surface, everything Finn did looked so innocent. But after three years, Finn Collins was an expert on Clarke’s loneliness and insecurities. He knew how to suck her back in. And once he had her, he was damn good at terrorizing her into letting him keep her.

“Marcus,” her mother said softly. “You can’t give boys like Finn an inch. He’ll hurt her again.” Clarke’s eyes fell shut as she shuddered at those words. It’s not like it was the first time she heard it. It’s a regular discussion point in therapy. But the way they all talked about it made it sound like Finn had hit her or something, which he hadn’t done. _Yet_ , the voice in her head supplied.

Her phone started vibrating in her lap, jerking her from her thoughts as she moved to silence it. As Clarke’s mom moved on to talk about why the school isn’t doing more about Finn, Clarke snuck a glance down at her phone to see that Bellamy Blake was calling her.

It had to be a butt dial or something. Clarke tucked her phone back into her sweatshirt pocket and resumed eating. The rest of the dinner was fine, just a lot of Marcus and Abby venting about work. Clarke would occasionally chime in with a question, her way of pretending to be engaged. She found they worried less about her when she did this.

Once the table was cleared and Clarke was dismissed, she sprinted up to her room. When she pulled her phone out of her pocket, she spotted a text from Bellamy.

 _Call me when you can_.

She stared at her phone for a moment, only coming up with two possible reasons Bellamy Blake would want to talk to her on the phone. Either he had a homework question and she was the only classmate whose number he had, or he wanted to continue their conversation from Spanish class.

She pushed her small vanity in front of her bedroom door to keep her mom from barging in. They had removed the lock before Clarke had returned home from the hospital… for good reason. But Clarke felt safer when she knew she had privacy, when she was certain no one was going to break into her space. It was the only way she could truly relax now, even in her own home.

Clarke flipped on her fan to cover up the sound of her talking. She felt silly taking all these precautions to keep from her mom barging in on a phone call with a random classmate. But Clarke couldn’t do anything anymore without a thousand questions coming with it. And considering the turn this phone call might take, Clarke didn’t want her mom overhearing something and panicking.

She pulled off her bra from under her uniform polo. It was that tiny pink one from Aerie that didn’t fit now that Clarke gained back the weight she had lost when Finn told her she’d be more attractive if she dropped a few pounds. She needed to go out and buy new ones, but the thought of taking her shirt off and getting measured by some tiny girl who could pass for a model made Clarke feel sick.

Once she was comfortably curled up in bed, she dialed Bellamy.

“Hi,” he said, picking up on the first ring.

“Hi,” she replied before swallowing. Clarke ran her fingers up and down her pillow case, trying to press out the small creases. “I was at dinner when you called earlier.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Clarke bit down on her lip, waiting for him to explain why she had to call. She was praying it was a question about Spanish, but she knew better. He actually paid attention in class, unlike Clarke who couldn’t focus anymore. Frankly, the odds of him calling her for any homework issue were slim. He was a better student than Clarke, no matter how hard she tried.

“So, I don’t know how to ask this,” he whispered, and Clarke clenched her eyes shut. “It’s not my business, and it’s not like you and I are even friends.”

He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t overheard Clarke talking to Marcus about Finn. Most people noticed something was off about Clarke and Finn, but it always got attributed to Clarke being the bitch that broke Finn’s heart. All anyone saw was that Finn still loved Clarke and was doing whatever it took to win her back, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day. And that would have been Bellamy’s assumption if he hadn’t overheard a brief glimmer of the truth.

“What happened?”

“You know what happened,” she blurted out even though it wasn’t true. If he knew anything, it was far from the truth. It was the story Finn put out and that Clarke’s friends perpetuated. The tale of Finn loving Clarke more than she loved him. The most constant relationship at their school coming to a screaming halt because Finn got just a little upset when that girl Lexa started flirting with her even though Clarke didn’t realize it. And sure, Finn did threaten Clarke that night, but that poor boy wasn’t thinking straight because _clearly_ Clarke was about to cheat on him with some senior from the all girl’s school across town. But he tried to make that little threatening thing right. It wasn’t his fault that Clarke wouldn’t answer the phone and that he had to start following her home from school just to get her to hear his apology.

Clarke had given up fighting those lies months ago. There was no point. Everyone at school loved Finn, and Clarke was the outsider. Of course, they listened to him and not her.

“No, I don’t,” Bellamy corrected. “I know what everyone says happened, but based on what I’ve seen from you, I’m willing to bet it’s bullshit.”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to take up your—”

“I’ve got time,” he cut her off. She bit down on her lip, weighing whether or not she should tell him. On one hand, she was opening the door for yet another person to tell her she was blowing things out of proportion. On the other hand, Clarke didn’t really care what Bellamy Blake thought of her. She hardly spoke to him now, and she’d never see him again after she graduates. She’d never see any of these people again.

“Okay, tell me when you’ve heard enough.” She checked her door, noticing that no light was on below it, which meant no one was upstairs. Good. After switching her Blackberry to the other ear, she continued, “It started the day we broke up. There was this girl from Polis Academy.”

“Lexa,” he filled in, and she gritted her teeth. Great, there were even more details than she realized in the stories about her.

“Yeah, Lexa. She was the president of her debate club, I was vice president of mine. We saw each other every weekend for tournaments. And she and I texted a lot, mostly about politics since none of my friends or Finn keep up with what’s going on in the news. I didn’t think she was flirting with me, especially since I had a boyfriend.” Clarke learned months later at nationals that Lexa was actually trying to flirt with her and just had really shitty timing. “Finn saw through it and forbade me from talking to her.”

“Kinda hard when you guys see each other every weekend.”

“Yeah, so I told him he had to trust me or I was done.” The whole fight had come after months of Finn slowly becoming more and more controlling of her life. He was getting angry about the weekends she was away from him. He insisted that Clarke spend her New Years with him instead of with her family, like she does every year. He transferred into AP Chemistry so they would have all their classes together even though he sucked at science. “And he broke down crying and insisted that he did trust me, so I thought it was settled. Not five minutes later he started accusing me of having feelings for her, and that was the final straw.”

“So, you never cheated on him?”

“Fuck no. When would I have had the time to cheat on him? I never got a fucking moment away from him,” Clarke grumbled. She still hasn’t gotten a moment away from him. “And it’s real rich of him to accuse me of cheating considering how our relationship started.” God, Raven Reyes should have been Clarke’s first clue. But something about the way Finn explained it away, how he told Clarke that everything changed when he first met her… Clarke just wanted to believe him. As wrong as Clarke knew the whole thing was, there was this affection deprived part of her that needed to believe that his feelings for her were just that strong. That someone loved her that much.

“Okay, so far the story you’re telling is proving everything I’ve heard wrong,” he told her, and a smile crept onto her lips. Maybe he would believe her after all. There was a first time for everything.

“Oh, just you wait,” she muttered. She plopped onto her back, kicking her feet up onto the wall beside her bed. “He starts following me home from school. He changed his phone number after I blocked his so he could keep calling me. He would show up at my house in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure you’ve already thought of this, but have you looked into a restraining order?”

Clarke blinked in surprise. It was odd enough to talk to someone who believed her this far. It was another thing all together to find someone who took this as seriously as she did. Most people brushed it aside. Her guidance counselor even told her that this was just boys do when they’re in love, as if this is somehow normal.

“Yes,” she sighed. “But I can’t get one while we go to school together.”

“That’s bullshit. You definitely can, and he can go somewhere else,” Bellamy corrected.

“It would be me that has to go somewhere else,” Clarke huffed. “Our headmaster told me and my mom that if legal action were taken, only one of us could stay at Arkadian, and it wouldn’t be me. They’re not about to throw Finn out over something they see as harmless. And you know how much money the Collins family—”

“That is so fucked up,” Bellamy growled, the anger rising in his voice. “Do they have any idea how dangerous guys like Finn can get? Harmless? You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean to tell me that they let him sit next to you every fucking day when he has already threatened and stalked you? He could fucking hurt you.”

The rage behind his usually steady voice lured the first tears from her eyes. She knew he wasn’t trying to scare or upset her, that perhaps something about what Clarke was saying triggered something for him. But it was the _he could fucking hurt you_ that made her start to crumble. _Could_. _Yet_. The words that haunted Clarke as she tried to sleep at night.

The words danced around in her thoughts, blurring the line between _he wouldn’t_ and _he could_. There were a lot of terrifying things about being Finn Collins’ girlfriend. But he never physically harmed her, nor did she ever think he would. It wasn’t until after it was over that this fear came to life. It wasn’t until she sat in that misshapen circle on that flimsy chair that it became a possibility she knew to fear. It wasn’t until the only other teenager in the group, a surly girl with dark, broken eyes, muttered, “Is there really a difference between him hurting you and him tricking you into hurting yourself?” that Clarke realized the threshold had already been crossed. No, Finn Collins had never hit her. But he still broke her all the same. And after what he did to her, it wasn’t too far of a stretch to assume that he would hit her if he ever got Clarke back in his clutches.

“I haven’t finished the story,” she whispered, praying he didn’t hear the way her voice wavered.

“What?” The anger absent was from his low voice. It was replaced with something else. Worry, perhaps? Panic?

“It just gets worse. I should stop.”

“What did he do to you?” Bellamy asked, seeing right through her.

“He never did anything to me. I did it,” Clarke whispered, turning to bury her face into her pillow. She knew it was a lie, but in her mind, it still felt true just because he wasn’t the one to physically harm her. Finn did a lot to Clarke. He would call her, telling her that he’d kill himself if she didn’t take him back. He’d leave love letters in her locker and backpack, quiet reminders that he was still in her space and that she hadn’t gotten away from him yet. He threatened Riley when he asked Clarke to prom, scaring Riley so bad that he un-asked her, leaving Clarke all alone for her first prom. He transformed Clarke into someone who counts the exits every time she entered a room. Into someone who kept her eyes out for his red jeep whenever she was on the road. Into someone who can’t sleep at night until she’s checked the locks on all the doors and windows at least three times.

But he didn’t make her dig through her mom’s medicine cabinet that night. He just wore her down until she was too broken to think better of it when he gave her the idea.  

“He stalked you. He’s still stalking you from what I’m seeing. And you’re scared of him, which tells me that he’s definitely done something, Clarke,” Bellamy pointed out. “So, what did he do?”

“He told me I should kill myself.” She hardly ever said that aloud. Only to her mom, doctor, therapist, and the school board when the school actually decided to look into her complaints against Finn Collins. “He cornered me on the last day of school. I was waiting on my mom to pick me up. And he told me that I had been lucky that he had loved me. That he was the only person who actually did. That my mom was too busy to notice if something happened to me. That my friends couldn’t stand me after what a bitch I was to him. And now that he and I were done, there was no one left who even wanted me here.”

“Clarke.”

“If he had said it on any other day, I might have been okay. But it was four years to the day that my dad died, and he _knew it_. He waited to say it on a day where I was already depressed and reminded that the person who loved me most was gone. He waited until I had no friends left at school. He waited until his words would feel the most true, and then he told me that I should kill myself. That he wanted me to. That everyone wanted me to.”

Bellamy was silent for a moment, only a quiet rustling told Clarke he was still there. “But… you didn’t—”

“I tried,” she murmured into her pillow.

“Clarke,” he said, and she swore his voice broke on her name. It was so soft yet heartbroken, as if he were pleading for it all to be untrue.

“My mom found me, so it all turned out okay,” she brushed it off, trying to get that sadness out of his voice. Clarke could practically hear her therapist chastising her for downplaying what happened to her. It was one of those things Clarke was supposed to work on, but she couldn’t help it. It was a habit that took shape long before all this.

“You’ve got a fucked-up definition of okay, Clarke,” Bellamy murmured.

“It’s all relative,” Clarke snorted. “This is the least fucked-up it’s been in a year, so I’m gonna say it turned out okay.” Bellamy didn’t have anything to say to that, and her stomach lurched at the silence. “So, now you know,” she stuttered out to fill the quiet. “I guess I should let you go.” She knew exactly how many assignments he had to get done tonight since she had them all too, and she can’t imagine he really wants to stay on the phone with some girl he barely knows any longer than he has to. He got his answers, and now whatever this was could be over.

“I can keep talking,” he argued.

“You have homework you should be working on,” Clarke huffed, flipping onto her back.

“That is the last thing on my mind right now,” Bellamy replied. Before Clarke could say anything, she heard a girl’s voice on his end. “I’m on the phone, O,” he snapped. She couldn’t make out what the girl was saying over Bellamy’s groaning. “Yes, it’s a girl.” Clarke ducked her head, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. “We’re just talking about our English homework.”

“Should I hang up?” Clarke giggled.

“No,” he told her. “Yes, we are,” he snapped at the girl who had to be his sister. There was some rustling on his end that covered up whatever teasing thing his sister said back to him. “Clarke,” Bellamy said, and now she was pretty sure she was on speaker. “Tell Octavia we were talking about our English homework.”

“Yep. He’s helping me plan my Anna Karenina essay for tomorrow. I’m thinking about focusing on the train’s presence throughout, especially since she throws herself in front of it at the end,” Clarke lied.

“See?” Bellamy huffed as he took Clarke off speaker. “Get back to your algebra.” Clarke could hear Octavia muttering something to him as she moved to leave Bellamy’s room. “Is that really how that book ends?”

“You haven’t finished it?”

“No, and I don’t want to now that you’ve spoiled the ending.”

“We have to write an in-class essay on it tomorrow, Bellamy,” Clarke chastised.

“Yeah, well, that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today’s problem is that I’m talking to a monster who spoils the endings of books.”

“You were supposed to have it finished on Monday!”

“You just had to throw that in my face, didn’t you?” he asked, and Clarke broke into a giggle.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” he snorted. Clarke sat upright, accidentally catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. And there was the tiniest little smile on her face, one she hadn’t seen in a long time. “So, I feel like I owe you an apology.”

“For calling me a monster who spoils the endings of books? I don’t forgive you,” Clarke teased.

“No, and I won’t apologize for that,” he snickered. Clarke turned her bedside lamp off, feeling a little unnerved by her own reflection across the room. She laid back down, curling an arm under her pillow as she kept the phone pressed to her ear. “I meant for calling you out of the blue and demanding you tell me your life story.”

“Oh.”

“And for not noticing until now.”

“Stop,” Clarke sighed. “No one noticed. That’s not your fault.”

“But I should have.” There was something odd about his voice. The Bellamy she knew at school was generally indifferent and unaffected. He’d sometimes get a little too into discussion during history, but that was the most emotion she had ever heard out of his voice. But that little _I should have_ was harsh, like he was angry at himself for shirking some responsibility. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Just hang up on me and I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.” It wasn’t a reaction Clarke expected out of herself when just minutes ago she wanted to get this conversation over with so they could go back to their normal, distant relationship. But the idea of him hanging up the phone and leaving Clarke all alone made her chest ache. “Just, um, can we stay on the line a bit longer? We don’t have to talk.”

A clicking noise was the only thing she heard for a few moments, and it took her a beat too long to realize he was clicking his pen over and over. He did it in class all the time, but it only really bothered her in Spanish since he sat right behind her every day.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, and she let out a sigh of relief.

For an hour, all she heard from Bellamy were page turns and an occasional interruption from his mom or sister. Clarke put her phone on speaker while she finished up her lab report and finished the calculus problems that she didn’t have questions about. The rest she’d get help on before school.

“Fuck, you were right,” he huffed before slamming the book shut, and Clarke erupted into laughter. She muffled her giggles as he grumbled about how she spoiled the book for him. Eventually, they fell back into their silence. Every now and then, she’d ask him for a Spanish vocab word she was too lazy to look up or he’d ask her to compare answers on their calculus problems.

By eleven, Clarke had finished up for the night and started getting ready for bed. It sounded like Bellamy was still working, so she tried to be quiet as she crawled under the sheets.

Now that she wasn’t distracted by her own work, it seemed invasive to listen to Bellamy, even if all she could hear was his quiet breathing and an occasional annoyed huff. But Clarke couldn’t bring herself to end the call. She knew the second she ended it, her mind would start panicking about tomorrow, about Finn, about how she had all these college admissions deadlines coming up and how she’d screw up her entire life if she messed anything up. But his presence over the phone calmed the part of her that hated to be alone with her thoughts… maybe because it didn’t feel like she was alone with her thoughts right now.

It was the quickest she had fallen asleep in months, maybe even years.

 

* * *

 

House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance blasted throughout her room, jerking Clarke upright. She unplugged her iPod from the alarm clock to shut it off, too tired to sit up and press the snooze button. She buried her head back into her pillow, knowing she had ten minutes before her mom would come knock on her door to wake her up if she didn’t hear Clarke up and getting ready. That was ten more minutes of sleep.

“I would’ve pegged you for Taylor Swift,” she heard Bellamy murmur, and Clarke nearly fell out of her bed as she reached for her phone.

“Why didn’t you hang up on me?”

“You didn’t tell me to,” he snorted. “So, was that just a random song that came on or do you actively choose to start your day with MCR?”

“Bellamy, I had fallen asleep. You should have hung up on me.” She stared down at her screen. Their call had lasted eight hours and thirty-six minutes.

“I’ll remember that next time. So, which is it? A random song or a favorite?”

“Favorite. Well, favorite album, not favorite song.”

“Huh.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Sure, see you in an hour.”

Clarke buried her face into her pillow. She had just assumed Bellamy would hang up when he realized Clarke was asleep. What was the point of staying on the phone if the other person was asleep? Not to mention that Clarke often talked in her sleep and he likely heard her.

As she put on her uniform, her mind was cluttered with fears about how that long phone call might change things. Would Bellamy act differently around her? Would he tell anyone what she told him? Or would he pretend like their conversation never happened? Clarke wasn’t sure what her worst case scenario was when it comes to the stranger she shared her life story to.

It wasn’t until she was buckled into the passenger seat of her mom’s Honda Odyssey that she remembered Bellamy say the words “next time.” There was an odd certainty in how he said it, the kind that put her at ease for once.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy had never liked Finn Collins. That didn’t make Finn special or anything. Bellamy disliked most people he went to school with. He was surrounded by rich kids who had never had to work for a damn thing in their lives, so it was difficult not to resent them all. But there was something different about Finn that Bellamy hadn’t spared much thought to… at least, not before Clarke looked to Bellamy with desperate eyes and pleaded for him to be her partner. Those panicked eyes were familiar to Bellamy, but he couldn’t place where from until he overheard Clarke Griffin talk to that Marcus guy.

He knew Clarke didn’t want him in her business, and he respected that. But once it was pointed out to Bellamy, he couldn’t stop seeing what Finn was doing to her. The obsessive communication, the following, the heartbroken eyes he’d try to guilt her with when she ignored him… it was too familiar for Bellamy to just look away from.

So, he kept an eye on Clarke, which was easy enough to do since they had classes together. He spotted her checking over her shoulder as she walked between buildings for class. He noticed how her anxiety became more visible the longer it took her mom to pick her up each day.

Then came the day that Clarke didn’t show up for lunch. Normally, he’d spot her at a table with her friends or off in a corner working on calculus while she ate. But not today. And he wasn’t the only person who noticed her absence. Finn’s head was on a swivel, just waiting for the moment that Clarke walked in the double doors. Finn checked in with Clarke’s usual table before sitting back in his normal spot. His legs bounced as he ate, his head perking up any time the door opened, only for him to sulk when it wasn’t her.

Bellamy’s panic for the girl was soothed only by the fact that Finn couldn’t get to her right now, meaning she was safe. But that panic came back as soon as he walked into Spanish and saw Clarke in her seat, just moments away from being trapped in a room with Finn Collins for forty-six minutes.

The way she jumped when Bellamy tapped her shoulder cleared any doubt from his mind about what was going on. It was a jump that took him back more than a decade… to the night his mom stuffed him and his baby sister into her car in the middle of the night, warning them both to stay silent or he’ll hear them trying to leave.

It was the wince behind Clarke’s deep blue eyes when Finn called out her name that haunted him all day. It tugged at something inside him, something Bellamy had previously thought was dead and buried.

That’s how he ended up on the phone with her all night, gripping the side of his bed to keep from punching another hole in his wall as he listened to her. After she had fallen asleep, he replayed what she told him over and over, seething as he recalled how little the school had done to help her. No one had helped her. No one even noticed what had been developing for years now.

The only thing that gave him any semblance of calm was remembering that Clarke was still on the phone. If he got angry, he’d wake her up. So, he kept his phone on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He took deep breaths and remembered there was only so much he had control over. He couldn’t make the school protect Clarke better. He couldn’t murder Finn Collins, though it was tempting. All he could do was watch out for her… and that would have to be enough.

 

* * *

 

He had a hard time keeping his eyes open as he waited for morning assembly to start. He normally didn’t stay up that late, but being angry about Finn Collins messed with his ability to fall asleep.

And right as he thought of Finn, the asshole appeared, plopping down in his assigned spot just a few seats away from Bellamy. He gripped the seat of his chair, trying to stay calm enough not to cross over to that dick and punch him right in the face. No matter how good it might feel, it wasn’t worth it.

Clarke darted in, powerwalking her way to her seat just seconds before the bell rang. Her chin was raised a bit higher today, something he hadn’t seen in a while. Since Bellamy started paying attention to her and Finn, Clarke had almost always come into assembly with slumped shoulders, like she was trying to disappear inside herself.

He turned his head away before she caught him looking at her. Bellamy fixed his eyes on the stage, seeing Headmaster Wallace and Principal Diyoza stepping toward the podium. He could hear Clarke shuffling past Monty on the way to her seat, which was in the row right behind Bellamy. “Hey, did you decide if you were coming on Saturday?” Monty asked.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Clarke mumbled. “Maybe next time.” The final bell rang right as she finished speaking. If Monty said anything back, Bellamy couldn’t hear it over the sound of the entire student body shuffling to their feet for the Pledge of Allegiance. He couldn’t help but wonder if she really had a conflict or if it was an event Finn might be at and it wasn’t safe for her to go to whatever it was. It should probably bother Bellamy that he didn’t have a clue what Monty was inviting her to, especially since Bellamy hadn’t been invited to shit in the four years that he had been at this elitist school. But it wasn’t like he tried hard to make friends here either.

Bellamy stole a glance back at Clarke once it was over and everyone was sitting down. Her eyes flickered over to his as she pushed back a strand of blonde hair that had fallen from her braid. He offered her a forced smile before turning his head and immediately felt stupid for it.

He zoned in and out of the announcements, his mind drifting to wondering how he was supposed to act around Clarke now. They weren’t exactly friends. But they were something, or at least, he thought they were. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he knew about her outside of what happened to her junior year. He knew that she went to public school like he did, but it was one of those rich neighborhood public schools that might as well be private, which was a far cry from the school Bellamy was zoned for. He knew she was smart, smart enough to be in all AP classes. He knew her dad was dead, though he didn’t have a clue how it happened. And as of this morning, he knew her favorite album… which only told him just how little he knew about this girl that he’s had dozens of classes with over the years.

Well, he also knew that she was kind. Or at least, kind to him. When they first started at Arkadian, the freshman class would always throw get togethers before football games, often to decorate t-shirts or cook out. No one told the new kids, which should have been Bellamy’s first clue about what his life here would be like. Clarke found out about them likely because Finn Collins had a crush on her, and she made sure to pass along the invite to the rest of the new students. Every week, she found Bellamy at lunch and gave him the information, and every week, he made up some excuse for why he couldn’t go. Eventually, she stopped trying to get him to come, clearly taking the hint.

At the time, Bellamy hadn’t thought much of it. Her constantly trying to get him to come just reminded him that no one else thought to reach out to him. At times, her invites pissed him off a little, like she pitied him and was throwing him a bone. But looking at her now, Bellamy realized there is one more thing he knows about Clarke: she’s lonely and probably had been all along.

 

* * *

 

“So, what is going on with you and Clarke?” Murphy asked, his mouth full from the sandwich he just shoved into his mouth. Of all the people at this nightmare of a school, Bellamy just had to choose John Murphy to be his one friend.

“Swallow your food. Jesus,” Bellamy muttered, shaking his head. “And nothing’s going on.”

“Liar.” But Murphy dropped the subject and focused on finishing his lunch. The two of them rarely talk at lunch. They were friends out of necessity, which he felt like a dick for thinking but it was true. They were two outcasts in a class of less than a hundred, so it just made sense that they gravitated toward each other over the years.

Bellamy could see why Murphy was curious about Clarke. In the week since phone call, Bellamy had started going out of his way to be friendly toward her. He didn’t have every class with her, but in the ones he did, he sat closer to her, often right behind her like in Spanish. He found himself talking with her a bit before the bell rang. No serious conversations, just small talk about assignments.

He watched her closer than before, noticing a small twitch of her brows when Finn came in on a good day and a jerk of the shoulders on a bad day. Clarke gave very little away, likely something she picked up as a way to not encourage Finn’s harassment. But as hard as she tried, there were still little tells that Bellamy picked up on. It was when one of them appeared that Bellamy would talk to her, asking about a due date that he obviously didn’t forget or if she had a hard time tracking down a book for English… anything he could think of to distract her from the momentary panic that Finn’s presence threw onto her.

Bellamy hadn’t considered anyone would notice this small shift in his behavior. For the most part, he was invisible. But he should have known Murphy would, especially after Bellamy ditched being his partner in Spanish to keep Clarke from getting trapped with Finn.

“You into her?” Murphy asked, not even looking up from his messy tray. “Not judging if you are, but you might want to pick a girl with less drama.”

“I’m not.” Bellamy’s voice was a little harsher than normal. He knew Murphy would take that tone as denial instead of anger at the reference to Clarke’s drama. “And you don’t know what happened, so don’t talk about it.”

“Do you know what happened?” Murphy’s head cocked to the side, a small smirk threatening at his lips. “You do, don’t you?”

“Stop.”

“Come on.”

“Look, she just needed someone to talk to and I was there. She’s going through a hard time and I’m just trying to be nice.” Bellamy started chugging his juice, now feeling in a hurry to get out of this cafeteria. His eyes flickered over to Clarke, who was eating alone in the corner, finishing up a lab report. Maybe he should have asked her if she wanted to sit with them.

Bellamy jerked his head away, shaking it slightly. No. And she’d just say no. Clarke had people to sit with, and she was choosing to be alone. And it wasn’t like Bellamy and Clarke were friends. They were something, but not quite friends.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Murphy snorted, and Bellamy slammed his hand down onto the cold table. “Oh, come on. I’m just screwing with you. It’s not like you have a shot with her anyway.”

Bellamy just rolled his eyes. Murphy knew Bellamy didn’t even date. There had been a handful of girls over the years, none from Arkadian, but it was never anything serious. Bellamy didn’t have time for serious. He had to work his ass off to keep his scholarship here and to get one for college. If he wasn’t studying, he was taking care of Octavia while his mom was off at work.

He didn’t really mind not dating. It stung a little whenever he saw Gina with her boyfriend, the one she started dating after Bellamy turned her down, but he knew he could never be what she needed, not with all the other pressure on his shoulders. But in general, he was glad to not be a part of that world. Murphy and Emori had been too on again off again that just watching it wore Bellamy out. He was better off alone.

“You’re a dick,” Bellamy told him.

“And you’ve got a crush,” Murphy retorted.

“I don’t.” And that was the truth. He was worried about Clarke. That was all this was.

But he could see where Murphy was coming from. Bellamy went from indifferent to involved too quickly. And Clarke was… pretty. Not that it was something he thought about much. But it was hard not to notice when Bellamy found himself stealing glances at her while they both waited for their moms to pick them up. Her hair usually had fallen out of place by then, several loose strands everywhere. Her gentle eyes remained vigilant, though a bit sleepy. And the dark blue polo that seemed to be a favorite of hers made her golden hair and light eyes more prominent. And sometimes, though not all that often, there was this quirk in her lips, almost like a smile… and Bellamy had to catch himself before he got too enraptured with the sight. The last thing he needed was to be caught staring at her.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy took his time getting to the roundabout where his mom picked him up, usually very late. Aurora Blake was many things, but punctual was never one of them. He took his time gathering his books from his locker and stopped for a sip of water before meandering to his usual spot.

Clarke was already there, headphones in her ears as she doodled in her notebook. Normally, she was working on homework, but it was a Friday, so she had all weekend to get the assignments done.

He walked right past her on the way to the tree he normally slouched against but stopped halfway. Why didn’t he just sit with her? It seemed silly to keep his distance when they were the only two people still out here waiting to be picked up.

Clarke’s eyes flickered up from her notebook as he stepped toward her. A flash of confusion danced across those bright eyes before she tugged a headphone out of her ear. “Hi,” she said, a question in her voice.

“Hi.” He plopped down next to her, dropping his backpack on the concrete.

Clarke clicked pause on her iPod, and Bellamy snuck a glance to see if maybe he was right about his Taylor Swift guess. But this time, she was listening to quartet music. “It helps me focus,” Clarke mumbled, yanking her other headphone out of her ear.

“Sure.” Now, he felt stupid for thinking he could sit down next to her and it wouldn’t be weird. He fidgeted his hands as he raked his brain for something to talk about. He already wasted most of his easy conversations on her throughout the day, and he didn’t know enough about Clarke to come up with any more small talk.

“So, uh, doing anything fun this weekend?” He glanced over at her, and she was pushing out the creases of her uniform skirt. Maybe she felt as awkward as he did.

“No, just homework and driving my sister and her friend to the mall.” Before he started at Arkadian, he had lots of friends in town. But over the years, Bellamy had less and less time to spend with them, and even when he could, he felt out of place. It made him almost jealous of his sister, of how easy it was for her to make and keep friends.

“Is your sister going to apply to Arkadian like you did?”

“God no,” he blurted out with a chuckle. When Clarke blinked her eyes up at him, he explained, “She doesn’t have the grades to get a scholarship and we can’t afford the tuition. And besides, she’d be miserable here.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not a big deal. She’ll be happier going to high school with all her friends.” Unlike Bellamy. Coming here was the right choice for him. He was getting a far better education than he could have ever dreamed of. He was going to get to go to college for free instead of burying himself in debt. Arkadian Preparatory, despite all its faults, was the best thing that could have happened for Bellamy. He just hated how lonely he felt here sometimes.

Her head ducked a bit as she scribbled a zigzag design down the side of her notebook. “Are you doing anything this weekend?” he asked.

“Probably not. It’s one of my few weekends off.” He nodded along, his mind already searching for another question to ask her to keep this conversation going.

“So, don’t you have a car?” He hadn’t meant to blurt out that question, but it had confused him since the school year started that Clarke Griffin was always sitting outside waiting for a ride. She hadn’t done that last year, which made him think that she got a car when she turned sixteen.

“My dad’s old car, yeah.” He furrowed his eyebrows but kept his eyes fixed on the ground. That didn’t answer his real question. If Bellamy had his own car, there was no way in hell he’d sit around here waiting for his mom to pick him up. And he couldn’t imagine Clarke enjoys being here any longer than she has to, especially not with Finn always lurking nearby.

“Why don’t you drive it?”

Clarke set her pen down and leaned away from Bellamy to check around the column, scanning the area to see if anyone else was nearby. “Because Finn won’t follow me if my mom is in the car with me,” she whispered once she turned back.

His jaw clenched as he stared at her. It wasn’t that Bellamy had forgotten that Finn was stalking Clarke. It was all he seemed to think about these days. But he had been so focused on the subtle harassments every day that he hadn’t considered the more blatant and threatening ones.

He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, though he didn’t know what, when he heard the familiar clunking of his mom’s truck. His head shot up, seeing Octavia sitting up in the front, giving him an odd look.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Clarke murmured. It felt wrong to leave her alone, though he had already done it several times before today. And he knew she was safe right now. Her mom was on her way and Bellamy had seen Finn take off in his car a while ago. But he still felt a lump of guilt in his throat as he grabbed his backpack and walked toward the truck.

“Backseat,” he told Octavia, who grumbled as she crawled into the back. He stole another glance at Clarke, who had already put her headphones back in her ear. She’d be okay, he reminded himself. Clarke was vigilant and was taking the necessary precautions to keep herself safe. She didn’t need Bellamy guarding her all the time, and she certainly didn’t ask for that.

“Who was that?” his mom asked as Bellamy buckled himself in. She looked a bit tired, no doubt from her late shift last night and her early one this morning.

“Clarke. We have a few classes together,” he muttered, keeping his eyes facing forward.

“Is she who you were on the phone with?” Octavia asked, poking his shoulder blade from the backseat.

“Yes,” he conceded. “That was for homework.”

“For hours? You talked about homework for hours?” Octavia teased, and Bellamy caught his mom smirking as she pulled out of the roundabout.

“Wanna help me out here?” Bellamy groaned, and his mom just snickered as she shook her head.

“You never talk on the phone. If you need homework help, you text Murphy,” Octavia said, leaning forward over the console. “You like her.”

“Octavia, seatbelt,” his mom snapped, and she shuffled back into her seat. Before his sister could say another thing, Bellamy cranked up the radio.

 

* * *

 

The nearest mall was half an hour away, which made taking Octavia and Niylah to it a pain in the ass. He sat in the food court with a book while he waited on them, occasionally getting up to get a slice of pizza. He acted annoyed that he had to hang around the mall until they were done, but in reality, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on a Saturday.

At nine, both girls were out of money and ready for the long drive back. The truck smelled of perfume samples and the bath bombs Octavia was all too fond of, giving Bellamy a minor headache.

“Can I text Mom to ask if Niylah can stay over?” Octavia asked, already holding Bellamy’s phone in her hand. It wasn’t like his mom would be home tonight to supervise. It was Bellamy who would have to watch over this sleepover, not that he got a say in whether it happened or not.

“Sure.”

Once she dropped his phone back into the cup holder, she and Niylah resumed talking about the eighth-grade dance and what they would wear. He tuned in and out, only really paying attention when they dropped boy’s names into their conversation. For the most part, Octavia seemed uninterested in dating, thank God. But he knew it would only be a matter of time.

When he pulled off the interstate, his phone started ringing. He glanced down to see Clarke’s name light up on his screen. Bellamy could only think of one reason why Clarke Griffin would call him. He flipped his phone open in a hurry, blurting out, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, everything is fine,” Clarke giggled, and he furrowed his eyebrows. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister sink lower into the seat. “Just thought you’d like to know that your little sister texted me from your phone to ask if I was your girlfriend.”

Thank God no one else was on the road because Bellamy slammed on his brakes and glared at his sister. “O, you said you were texting Mom!”

“I did text Mom… and then I texted Clarke,” she shrugged, and Bellamy could hear Clarke still giggling on the phone. He knew his face turned beat red, but luckily Clarke couldn’t see just how embarrassed he was.

“Wait, did she text back?” Niylah chimed in, leaning forward.

“If she’s just a girl from class why is your face all red, Bell?” Octavia teased.

“Yeah, Bellamy. Do you like her?” Niylah added in.

“Oh my God!” Bellamy snapped. “Clarke, I’ll call you right back.”

“Aww, he’s gonna call her back,” Octavia giggled, turning around in her chair to smile at Niylah. Bellamy snapped his phone shut before either of them said another thing to embarrass him in front of Clarke.

“Both of you, knock it off!” He gritted his teeth during the last stretch of the drive. It was so damn hard not to say anything back as the two of them kept pestering him about Clarke, but his internal panic about what Clarke must think now was a good enough distraction to keep him from yelling at them.

As soon as he put the truck in park, the girls were out of the vehicle, running toward the house with bags from Claire’s and Forever 21 in their arms. He took a deep breath as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

Clarke would understand that it was just his little sister being annoying. He was gonna have to figure out how to get Octavia to stop picking at the subject of Clarke, though. He couldn’t exactly tell O the whole story about why he’s suddenly almost friends with the girl after three years of ignoring her, but he could just point out that Clarke went through a breakup so nothing would happen between him and her… not that he believed Octavia would settle for that answer.

He begrudgingly made Niylah and Octavia some mac n’ cheese before ducking upstairs into his room. He flipped his phone open and found the text Octavia had sent.

_hi Clarke this is Octavia. r u bells gf? he wont tell me_

Bellamy plopped down on his bed, quietly banging his head on the wall behind him. He could hear the girls giggling as they ran into Octavia’s room, slamming the door too loudly behind them.

He listened for a few minutes as the girls got to work on their usual Saturday night sleepover routine. They raided Mom’s makeup stash first, tiptoeing past Bellamy’s room as if he didn’t know what they were doing. Then, they ducked back into Octavia’s room and cranked the radio up. For the next hour or so, it would be makeover time.

Once they were well into their makeup routine, he dialed Clarke, figuring they would be too busy to spy on him. “I am so sorry,” he said as soon as Clarke picked up.

Her soft giggling relaxed the knot in his chest. “I get it. Little sisters are like that.”

“Still. I’m sorry she texted you. I’d say she doesn’t normally do shit like that but—”

“Bellamy,” she chuckled, and a smile tugged at his lips. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“Okay, if you say so.” He fell back onto his bed and heard some rustling on Clarke’s end. “Fuck, did I interrupt something by calling?”

“No, not at all. I’m just lying in bed, debating on a movie to watch.”

“What are the options?”

“The only DVD’s I can reach without getting out of bed are Zoolander, The Princess Bride, and one of the Shrek movies.”

“Which Shrek movie?”

“Does it matter?”

“How could you even ask that question?” he snorted. “Anyway, put in Zoolander.”

“Why are you giving me hell about Shrek if you were just going to pick Zoolander anyway?” she groaned in that same annoyed voice she got whenever class discussions got heated. He could visualize the scrunching of her nose and narrowed eyes perfectly.

“I was just curious. And I needed the entertainment. There’s a sleepover happening right across the hall here.” Speaking of, the girls were oddly quiet. Bellamy sat upright, wondering why he didn’t hear the radio blasting anymore.

“Your sister has a friend over?”

“Yeah, the one you probably heard in the background when you called.” He tiptoed toward the door, careful not to trip over his shoes so that the girls didn’t hear him. Once he could reach his door handle, he yanked the door open, causing Octavia and Niylah to fall onto Bellamy’s floor. “And they’ve had their ear to the door listening in on most of this call too,” he huffed.

“Oh my God,” Clarke giggled over the phone, but Bellamy kept his stern eyes on Octavia as she sat herself up.

“Hey, how’s Clarke?” Octavia asked with a shrug.

“Tell her I’m good,” Clarke told him, and he bit down on his lip.

“Hold on,” Bellamy told Clarke before muting the call. “O, seriously?”

“You’ve been acting weird, okay?” Octavia huffed as she helped Niylah get up to her feet. “I was hoping it was because Clarke is your secret girlfriend.”

“Well, she’s not. Look, she had a really bad breakup with her boyfriend and she needs a friend. So, stop.”

“Oh.” Her eyes fell, disappointed. He didn’t know why his sister had been so convinced he had a secret girlfriend. It’s not like he’s ever had one, secret or not.

He waited until Octavia and Niylah shuffled downstairs before taking Clarke off mute. “Sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I think it’s funny.”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a little sister.” Bellamy flickered his overhead light off before falling face first onto his bed.

“Yeah, but you love her.”

“I do,” he admitted.

“Is she always this in your business?”

“No, because I normally don’t have business for her to stick her nose into,” he sighed. “I don’t do much except go to school and hang out at home.”

“And apparently have a secret girlfriend,” she teased, and his cheeks warmed. He’d be more embarrassed if it weren’t for Clarke’s warm tone, one that made him suspect she was smiling right now.

“Can we just forget this ever happened?” He threw his head back as she laughed, but it was hard to stay annoyed. She sounded happy right now, which was a far cry from what he saw from her during the school day.

“Fine.”

The girls started a movie downstairs, and usually, he would join them just to have something to do. But instead, he kicked off his shoes and got more comfortable in his bed, like he did last time he talked on the phone to Clarke. “So, tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything really.”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

“What?” he barked out, chuckling automatically.

“It’s not funny,” she whined, and he had to bury his face into his pillow to muffle his laughter. “I never learned.”

“How do you go your whole life without learning how to swim? I learned when I was four.”

“It seemed scary, so I told my mom I didn’t want to. And then I just wouldn’t go to the part of the pool where I couldn’t touch. I mean, I don’t even like being at the pool so it doesn’t really matter that I can’t swim.”

“Or you’d like being at the pool if you actually learned how to swim,” he snorted.

“What practical reason is there for me to learn? I live in a landlocked state.”

“What if you went to a lake?”

“I just won’t go to a lake.”

“What if you drive your car off a bridge and land in a river?”

“Even if I knew how to swim, I’d likely die in that scenario.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound right now?” he grumbled, though a smile betrayed its way onto his lips. She was stubborn as hell, he’d give her that.

“You’re the one putting me in hypothetical freak accidents and implying that knowing how to swim would save me when, in fact, the much bigger problem would be that I wouldn’t stay calm enough to figure out how to get out of the car in the first place,” she snapped.

“Pull out your headrest and use the metal part to break open your window. Easy. But then, you die because you never bothered to learn how to fucking swim.”

“Your turn,” she huffed.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“Tell me something.”

He turned onto his side, trying to think of something interesting to tell her. All the immediate thoughts that jumped to his mind were boring, minor annoyances about Octavia, or his craving for a grilled cheese. But the seconds went on, and he didn’t want to keep Clarke waiting, so he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

“I got invited to a party tonight, but I’m not going.”

“Oh? Whose party?”

“This girl Roma. Her parents are out of town,” he explained. “I get invited to these things all the time, but I never go. I feel like I should… but I just don’t.” Not to mention that he was pretty sure Roma only invited him so they could hook up again… which he wasn’t opposed to in theory, but it probably said a lot about him that he’d rather stay home and watch TV. Or talk to Clarke, apparently.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But I feel like I should want to. Getting drunk and hooking up is what we’re supposed to be doing on Saturday nights, right? Yet here I am, at home, monitoring my sister’s sleepover until my mom gets home.”

“Where is your mom?”

“Work. On Saturdays, she works until 2 am.”

“Oh.” He imagined Clarke was used to a similar schedule, what with her mom being a doctor and all. “And I feel like going out is overrated. Parties always have too many people at them anyway.”

“Too many drunk people,” he muttered. “Do you still get invited to parties after—”

He cut himself off, fearing that he crossed a line. But he let out a breath as soon as she started talking. “Yeah,” she sighed. “But I usually don’t go. I mean, if Finn’s at one, I’m fucked.”

“True.”

“And I don’t think anyone actually wants me there anyway.”

“Not true.”

“Very true,” she huffed. “I’m not stupid, Bellamy. I know what everyone says behind my back. Sometimes, they say it right to my face. Half the school thinks I’m the girl who cheated on Finn and broke his heart. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, but it’s just how it is. I don’t have friends anymore.” The words falling off her lips weren’t nearly as devastating as the resigned tone that accompanied them. To Clarke, it was all just fact. A sad conclusion that this was how it would be for her. That she was alone now.

“You have me,” he blurted out. Bellamy wasn’t sure when he started thinking of Clarke as a friend. As of a yesterday, she was still just a girl from school… one he worried about, but at most, an acquaintance. And now, he was extending his hand to her, holding his breath as he waited to see if she’d take it… if she wanted to be his friend.

As the silence dragged on between them, Bellamy regretted his words more and more. It was silly to think that two little phone calls turned them into friends. And it was he who pushed that first conversation onto her in the first place. It’s not like she wanted whatever this was.

“Yeah, I do,” she whispered, and he felt a small flutter in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

The phone calls kept happening. Usually on weekends. Fridays were best because his mom was home those nights, meaning Octavia didn’t try to listen in. Saturdays were good too, though they usually were full of constant interruptions from Bellamy’s little sister… which were cute. He acted all annoyed, but he couldn’t hide the sheer love that flooded through his voice even as he complained about her.

The calls on weekdays were different, less actual conversation and more keeping each other on speaker as they did homework. It was a weird ritual, but she found that her mind didn’t wander to dangerous places when Bellamy was on the other line. She could hear him breathing or occasionally grumble about Sydney’s obscene assignments, and Clarke would be reminded she wasn’t alone.

“I’m getting in bed now,” she told him as she packed up her backpack for the morning. Now, they told each other when they were going to bed… not as a way to end the phone call, but just to alert the other that they might fall asleep. Clarke always fell asleep first, though.

“Kay,” he mumbled.

Clarke changed quickly before flopping into bed. She took her phone off speaker and placed it on her pillow. Once she was comfortable on her side, she positioned the phone under her ear so she could still hear Bellamy.

It took him another half hour to call it a night. Clarke was usually fast asleep by now, so it was kind of weird to hear him getting dressed for bed or crawl under the covers. “You still with me?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“So, I have to take O to some party tomorrow, so I might not be able to talk until after I get home.” There was a sleepiness starting to take over his voice, one she usually only heard first thing in the morning when they didn’t hang up the night before.

“That’s okay. I gotta swing by the mall anyway.”

“What are you getting at the mall?”

“My dress for Homecoming,” she sighed. There was one at Macy’s that she had found online. She just prayed it would look okay on someone who wasn’t a stick thin model.

“Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Homecoming is next week, Bellamy.” She didn’t know how he wasn’t aware of that. Half the morning announcements each day was about it. Just yesterday, Monty brought in cupcakes that spelled out _HOMECOMING?_ for Harper during lunch and everyone cheered.

“Huh.”

“Are you going?” Clarke didn’t remember ever seeing Bellamy at school dances before. It seemed like the kind of thing he wouldn’t be into, which was valid. They usually sucked.

“Hell no,” he chuckled. “I don’t like being at that school normally. Why would it be any better at a dumb dance?” It was a very Bellamy response, and she knew there was no arguing with him on it. His mind was made up. But she kind of hoped he would budge, maybe agree to suffer through it to hang out with Clarke. “But you want to go? Even though Finn will be there?”

“It’s my senior year. I’m not missing out on it just because of him. Besides, Wells is coming back for a visit so I’m dragging him with me.” Clarke had talked about Wells a bit to Bellamy over the last few weeks, enough for Bellamy to know that Wells was her best friend and not like the wealthy jerks they went to school with.

“Just what every college guy wants to do on a Saturday night… go to a high school dance,” he snorted. “You guys going to do all those cheesy photos beforehand?”

“Obviously. My mom is going to make us take thousands of photos on my front porch, and it will be adorable.”

“You make it sound so fun,” he muttered dryly.

“You can come with us.” But the breath he let out caused her heart to sink. She knew it would be a hard no before she even opened her mouth.

“I’m good.”

Clarke clicked her phone back on speaker and set it on her nightstand. There were nights where Clarke felt like Bellamy got her, like he understood her in a way no one else had even tried to before. And then, there were nights like tonight where she felt like he didn’t want her to get close enough to understand him. Logically, she understood that was dumb. He let his guard down around Clarke, which has been proven phone call after phone call. Not wanting to go to some dumb dance had nothing to do with her. But it still felt like it did.

 

* * *

 

Most students had already taken off toward assembly, meaning the locker area had barely anyone in there. Clarke made quick work of tugging her Physics book out, wincing slightly at the sound of her other books slamming into the locker wall once it was gone. Once her bag was packed, she checked the clock. Only three minutes to get into her seat or else she would be marked as late and get another demerit.

“Clarke!”

Her back straightened at the sound his voice, but she didn’t dare move. Her eyes flickered around the hall, looking for anyone who would help her. But all she found were a handful of freshmen she didn’t know, and John Murphy fighting with the water fountain.

“Sorry,” Finn panted, out of breath as he jogged up to her, “didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m running late,” Clarke muttered, slamming her locker shut before picking up her things.

“Yeah, me too.” She took quick strides to the door, not that it mattered. He always managed to keep up with her. “Look, I know I haven’t done anything to earn your forgiveness.”

“Stop,” she muttered, keeping her eyes facing forward. Clarke was proud of herself for keeping her voice steady, for not giving any other fear away to him… but it wasn’t making a difference.

“But it’s our senior year. And every other year we have—”

“Stop.” This time she was firmer, loud enough that Bree’s head perked up as Clarke powerwalked by with Finn following right after her. Clarke just had to get to assembly. Someone there would notice him harassing her and make him stop.

“We’ve always gone to Homecoming together, Clarke,” he snapped. She clenched her jaw as she kept darting forward, though she was just waiting for him to ask her why she was being such a bitch to him. She was just feet away from the double doors now, so close to being safe. “I think for old time’s sake—”

“No!” she huffed, her hand now on the door handle. She cracked it open just in time for Finn to grip her wrist. “Do not touch me!” she screamed, and Finn jerked away.

The other door swung open, almost hitting Finn in the process. “Mr. Collins, my office right now,” Principal Diyoza hissed. As Finn shuffled down the hallway, her eyes scanned over Clarke. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke muttered before brushing past her. Diyoza had been doing what she could for Clarke, which wasn’t nearly enough. But her hands were tied since Headmaster Wallace didn’t want to ruin “some poor boy’s life” by expelling him and the board accused Clarke of lying for the attention. Clarke appreciated that Diyoza always seemed to keep an eye out for her… she just wished there was more she could do.

No one else seemed to overhear what took place in the hall, meaning there were no eyes on Clarke as she shuffled to her seat. Well, no eyes except Bellamy’s. He was turned in his seat, as if he had been waiting on her. His dark eyes were wide as she sat down, but she waved him off. There was no reason to get him all worked up over something he had no control over.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got a friend request!” Wells shouted from her laptop. Clarke ducked her head out of the bathroom, her eyeliner only half on.

“From who?”

“Octavia Blake? You know her?”

Clarke snorted as she pulled herself back into the bathroom. “Yeah, that’s Bellamy’s little sister.” There was no way he could be happy about his middle school sister making a Facebook account, let alone friending Clarke. “Accept it.”

“Oh, there are too many bathroom mirror selfies on here.” She rolled her eyes. She and Wells had their own share of those photos over the years, enough to fill a very embarrassing book that she’d one day put together for him. “Wait, is this Bellamy?”

With a sigh, Clarke dropped her eyeliner pencil and made her way to the laptop to see. And there was Bellamy with an annoyed scowl on his lips as Octavia squeezed his waist with a tight hug. “Yeah,” Clarke grinned. “That’s him.”

She grabbed her phone off her bed and called Bellamy, putting him on speaker so she could finish getting her makeup done. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for Homecoming?” Bellamy answered.

“I can multitask.” Though not very well since she almost stabbed her eye with the pencil. “Just thought you’d like to know that I’m now Facebook friends with your sister.”

“My sister doesn’t have a Facebook, Clarke,” he corrected.

“Oh, yes she does!” Wells shouted from her bedroom. “And she already has thirty friends!”

“Fuck,” Bellamy huffed.

“It’s not a big deal. I had a Myspace when I was her age,” Clarke pointed out. “Everyone has a Facebook these days.”

“I don’t.”

“He doesn’t have a Facebook?” Wells shouted. “Who doesn’t have a Facebook?”

“You must be Wells,” Bellamy sighed, and Clarke fought back a smirk. “And I don’t see the point. I don’t need a website to talk to people. I can just do it in person.”

“But you don’t do it in person. You don’t talk to anyone at school,” Clarke teased as she shut the bathroom door so Wells would stop butting in.

“I talk to you.”

“I don’t count.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re my best friend.”

It came off his lips so simply, just a statement of fact that they already knew. But hearing it out loud made something flip in her stomach as it tugged a smile onto her lips. It seemed silly to get so excited over his statement, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was _his best friend_.

“Yeah?” she asked, ignoring the sight of her goofy grin in the mirror.

“Obviously. Why else would I put down my book to pick up the phone?”

“Would you do a huge favor for your best friend?” she teased.

“Of course.”

“Come to Homecoming with me and Wells!”

“Nope, not that favor. Pick a different one,” he chuckled. She was glad he wasn’t there to see her face fall. Clarke wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much that he wasn’t going to be there tonight. Maybe it was just because they only felt close on the phone. There wasn’t enough time during the school day to really talk, and they never saw each other outside of school. It seemed like a chance to just be with Bellamy, to get to have one of their long conversations in person instead of in her dark bedroom over the phone.

“Fine. I’ve gotta go so I can get ready,” she sighed.

“Thought you could multitask.”

“I’m not good at it. And don’t yell at your sister over the Facebook thing!”

“She’s not supposed to have one, Clarke,” he huffed.

“And you’re not supposed to stay on the phone for more than an hour on a school night, but you don’t see her ratting on you.” Check mate. “Bye, Bell!”

As soon as she hung up, she fixed her eyeliner. Wells knocked on the door twice before pushing it open. “Is ‘Bell’ your nickname for him?” Wells teased, and Clarke elbowed him in the side. “It’s so cute.”

“Stop,” Clarke warned.

“I didn’t say anything.” Wells tucked his hands into his pockets, but there was this shit-eating grin that wouldn’t leave his lips.

 

* * *

 

True to form, Abby Griffin had Wells’ and Clarke’s cheeks burning from all the forced smiling. Most of the pictures would turn out goofy considering neither of them took this seriously. Wells was cracking jokes the whole time, even once getting on one knee to do a fake proposal. He even wore a bright blue bow tie, one that matched Clarke’s strapless dress perfectly.

Clarke couldn’t begin to describe how much it meant to have him here. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard. Between getting ready for the dance and all the pictures taken, Clarke hadn’t panicked about Finn once… which was the longest Clarke had ever gone without his face popping up in her mind.

But as soon as Wells pulled out of her neighborhood, Clarke whipped her head around, looking for Finn’s car behind them. If Wells noticed the way she kept checking behind them on the short drive, he kept that to himself.  

Her feet tapped anxiously as Wells pulled into the school, and she wondered if this was even a good idea. Prom was a nightmare because of Finn. And after the way Clarke rejected him earlier this week, tonight had the potential to be even worse.

“Breathe,” Wells whispered. “If it gets bad, we’ll leave.” She nodded weakly and hopped out of the car as soon as it was in park. Wells jogged around to meet her, extending his elbow out so she could take his arm.

The dance itself sucked, as per usual. The DJ was too loud. The chaperones had rulers this year to nudge students apart if they started grinding on each other. And Finn kept Clarke in his line of sight all night. From what she could tell, he brought a date… not that he was paying any attention to her.

Wells did a good job of distracting Clarke with ridiculous dance moves that had her cackling on the dance floor. Whenever a slow song came on, he got a little too into it as he sang the song to Clarke while swaying her back and forth. Mrs. Sydney even used the ruler on them when Clarke buried her face into his shirt to muffle her laughter.

But right when Clarke thought the night would go without incident, Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis came on. Her eyes flashed across the dance floor, spotting Finn staring right at her with soft, longing eyes. It wasn’t a coincidence this song came on. It was several years old now, and this DJ only played the newest songs save for the Cha Cha Slide. Finn requested this song. _Their song_. The one they first danced to at their freshman year Homecoming.

“We’re going,” Clarke whispered to Wells as she yanked him by the hand. She knew that look in Finn’s eye. He was going to come ask her to dance and make a scene when she refused.

“What’s going on?”

She didn’t stop to answer, instead tripping over her ridiculous heels on her way out of the gymnasium. She thought she’d be able to breathe again once she got out of that room, but it seemed to get harder. And she could still hear that fucking song. A song she loved. A song she had listened to over and over again because it was _theirs_. The same song he sang to her when he tried to apologize. The one he burned onto a CD so they could listen to it when making out in his backseat. The one that was on the first time he wrapped her hand around his cock, not letting go until he guilted Clarke into getting him off, not caring that she was crying.

And all Clarke could see is red.

She wasn’t going to make it to Wells’ car, so the bathroom would have to do. Wells stopped shy of following her into the girl’s restroom, instead calling out to her to see if she’s okay. She wasn’t, but all words were stuck in her throat.

She fell down to the floor in a stall, her shaking hands bracing the walls. She turned her head up to the ceiling, trying to count the specks in the ceiling tiles again. But her brain felt fuzzy, unable to remember what number she was on. All she could see was Finn’s hopeful little smile after requesting their song. The look in his eyes that reminded her that he would never stop. She was trapped.

She tugged her phone out, tempted to call her mom… but her mom had seemed so happy about how excited Clarke was about tonight. And Clarke didn’t want to break her mom’s heart any more than she already had. Nor did she want to go back on suicide watch.

So, she called Bellamy. He picked up on the first ring, like always. “Clarke? Aren’t you still at Homecoming?”

“Tell me something,” she pleaded, letting her eyes fall shut.

“What?”

“Anything, please.” The tears were hot on her skin, searing their way down her cheeks.

“I don’t understand what—”

“Bellamy, just tell me something,” she whispered.

“Um, I finished one of my applications today,” he stuttered out. “Just finished my essay and everything.” She hummed along as he talked about the essay, but she wasn’t really listening to what he said, just focusing on his tone.

“Tell me something,” she repeated again when he finished.

“No, your turn,” he said, and she could hear the panic in his voice. Of course, he knew something was wrong. He was Bellamy. He always knew. Maybe if he was here, she could have made it to the car before breaking down. He probably would have picked up on her trigger sooner. Maybe they could have at least made it out to the parking lot. And Clarke wouldn’t be crying on a bathroom floor, still hearing that song through the walls.

“Please.”

“Your turn. That’s how this works. Tell me something.” His low voice was stern, a bit more gravelly than she was used to.

She couldn’t even begin to form the words. There was no explaining what just happened. So, Clarke whispered the first thing that came to mind. “I wish you were here.” And that was all she could get out before she started hyperventilating again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being able to post this work and talk about what happened to me has been one of the most cathartic experiences of my life. It is so important to be able to explore works of fiction like this for people like me. I appreciate all of the positive feedback on this work and the love I've been shown, but I'm very aware that some of the people who praise me for being brave enough to work through my experiences using fiction are quick to condemn others doing the exact same thing because they disagree with how those works portray unhealthy relationships. I'm not going to argue against that again. You can go read all I've said about it on my Tumblr. But what I will say is that to censor one kind of fiction is to censor them all. There is no way to pick and choose which kinds of fiction are allowed and which aren't. You don't know everyone's story. You don't know why they needed to write it. You just know that you don't like what they wrote. And that instead of clicking back and exiting the work, you chose to read it and take your anger out on them directly. 
> 
> You can't allow me to use fiction to cope and heal while condemning others for doing the exact same thing. 
> 
> So, if you are one of the people who was sending hateful asks to me and my friends about dark fics, stop reading this fic. It isn't for you. It is for people who support each other. It is for people who want to build each other up in a world that works so hard to tear us down. It is for me, the person who has spent a lifetime being told not to talk about the dark, horrible things I've had to experience. The person whose life was saved when she found fanfiction. The person you triggered instead of just unfollowing and blocking. 
> 
> This is a work full of love. Love for myself after a lifetime of hating myself. Love for the people I share this story with, who have been nothing but kind and supportive of my work. Love for fiction itself, in all its forms.

Her words were like tiny daggers lodged into his chest. He should have been there.

“Breathe, breathe,” he whispered between her shaky breaths. God, he didn’t even know if she was still at the dance or if she and Wells had gone somewhere else and she got into trouble there. All the possibilities for what happened to her swirled around in Bellamy’s head. In his heart, he knew Finn had to be responsible for whatever this was, which made Bellamy even more furious at himself for not going tonight.

“I can’t,” she sobbed.

“Yes, you can. Breathe for me, Clarke.” He paced back and forth in front of his bed, listening to Clarke trying to regulate her own breathing. There was some music playing in the background, which probably meant she was still at the school. Bellamy could probably get there in fifteen minutes, but he’d have to figure out what to tell his mom and sister downstairs about where he’s going and why.

“Clarke, I’m coming in!” he heard a voice shout, and it sounded a lot like Wells from earlier. Good, she wasn’t alone. “Calling your mom?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke corrected, her voice sounded more stable now. Bellamy let his eyes fall shut and let out a breath.

“Let me talk to Wells for a second,” Bellamy pleaded.

There was some mumbling he couldn’t make out before Wells answered. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on,” he explained.

“Did Finn do something?”

“I don’t think so. They haven’t even spoken all night.” Clarke said something to Wells just then, though her crying made it impossible for Bellamy to make it out. “What song? I don’t… Okay, Bellamy, I’ll have her call you back. I’m getting her the fuck out of here and back home.”

“Do you need help? I can come—”

“No, I’ve got this. Just hang tight.” With that, Wells hung up, leaving Bellamy feeling helpless.

He was off the phone for less than a minute before he punched his wall. It wasn’t hard enough to leave even a dent this time, though it was enough to mar the skin covering his knuckles. He sat back down on his bed, staring at his hand, and just waited for his mind to grow quiet enough so he could think.

But Clarke’s little _I wish you were here_ echoed in his thoughts, louder than all his desires to go punch Finn Collins in the face. He just wanted to be there. He wanted to help her, to make her feel safe. But he wasn’t there. He just had to wait for her to get home and call him back.

He decided to distract himself while he waited. Bellamy made his way downstairs to get some Neosporin for his knuckles, completely forgetting that his mom and sister were down there. “Bellamy, did you punch your wall again?” his mother yelled.

“Yeah. But I didn’t mess up the wall this time.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” she huffed, grabbing his hand to take a better look at it. “What pissed you off this time?”

“Just something going on with my friend.”

“Is Clarke okay?” Octavia asked, whipping her head around.

“I didn’t say it was Clarke.” His mom dropped his hand to grab the Neosporin, leaving Bellamy in a stare down with Octavia.

“You don’t get mad about Murphy.”

“Okay, so it’s Clarke. I don’t want to talk about it.” His mom pushed him onto the couch, her eyes stern as she got to work dabbing at the scrapes on his knuckles.

“I bet he’s mad because she took another guy to Homecoming,” Octavia told Aurora, who just ducked her head like she wanted to stay out of this one.

“Wells is just her… wait, how do you know that she took him to Homecoming?”

A grin took over her face as she spun the desktop screen around to reveal her Facebook feed. “We’re Facebook friends, Bell. I know these kinds of things.” She cocked her head to the side, far too proud of herself.

Bellamy jerked his head to glare at his mom. “She still has her Facebook?”

“We made an agreement. I am making one too so that I can see everything she posts. And it’s on all the most private settings, so we don’t need to worry about anything,” she explained. This was her way of placating his fears that Octavia’s dad would show up again. And he shouldn’t be worried. That son of a bitch was still locked up. But as long as there was still a chance he could find her, Bellamy would never relax.

Bellamy looked past her at Octavia, who couldn’t look more smug if she tried. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. She always got her way… even when it was dangerous.

His mom examined his hand again, making sure she didn’t miss a spot, before shaking her head. He knew they’d have a talk about it later once Bellamy had the opportunity to calm down. Once she went back in the kitchen, Bellamy stepped over to where Octavia was scrolling through her Facebook. “Wanna see Clarke’s Homecoming photos? She looks so pretty.”

“Sure,” he grumbled. She typed in Clarke’s name to the search bar before pulling it up. Bellamy kept his eyes on the clock at the bottom of the screen. Only seven minutes had passed since he got off the phone with Wells. They should be halfway to Clarke’s by now.

“So, I think I could learn how to do the eyeshadow thing that Clarke did, but Niylah and I are going to have to practice,” Octavia rattled off before clicking on one of the photos.

Bellamy nodded along like he was listening, though he couldn’t recall anything she said because all he could think about was how beautiful Clarke looked in this mid-laugh photo. Wells was making some goofy face, and Clarke looked like she was two seconds away from crying because she was laughing too hard. Her eyes were soft, relaxed even… something Bellamy rarely got to see.

Octavia flipped past that photo too quickly, and a small huff of protest escaped his lips. His sister smirked as she looked over at him, and his cheeks turned red. She was merciful for once, sparing him her constant teasing as she slowly worked through all the photos Clarke’s mom had tagged her in. She had on more makeup than he was used to seeing her in. It looked nice, though it wasn’t his favorite look on her. Her hair didn’t have its natural curls; instead, it was full of perfect ones from a curling iron. Her dress was pretty, the blue being a nice color on her.

At the end of the photos, he made Octavia go back to the first one so he could see that mid-laugh smile again. There was something so magnetic about the way her lips turned up, about how rosy her cheeks were. It tugged at something in his chest, a longing that didn’t quite make sense to him. He wanted to see her laugh like that. He wanted to hear the sound that accompanied such a beautiful, happy expression. After everything she had been through, he hadn’t thought that she could look so carefree. But thankfully, he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

It took an hour for Clarke to call him back. He had been lying on his bed, staring up at his ceiling fan as he waited. His mind was drowning in questions, fearing that something happened to Clarke, that Finn followed her home or got to her before Wells could get her out of there.

When his phone rang, he nearly fell out of bed in his haste to answer it. “Clarke,” he said, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded so small, as if saying just that one word took all her energy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” It was a lie. Well, not an intentional lie, but the kind Clarke used when she didn’t want anyone to worry about her. “I’m home now. And my mom and Marcus are here, so I’m okay.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she whispered. Just an hour ago, she was on the phone crying, telling him that she wished he were there. There was no way nothing happened.

“Clarke.”

“I know I freaked you out,” Clarke sighed. “It was stupid.”

“Tell me,” he pleaded.

“No. Wells didn’t even understand. My mom didn’t either. There’s no point.” Her voice still sounded small, like she was curling into herself. His hands itched to touch her, to pull her in for a hug, to keep her close to him.

“Try me.”

“Bell—”

“Please. I was really scared, Clarke.” His voice broke a little, sounding weak in a way he didn’t recognize.

“I’m not even sure how to explain it. I was having a really good time tonight and Finn was leaving me alone. I knew he would try something and I was prepared for that. And what he did wasn’t even that bad—”

“What did he do?” Bellamy said through gritted teeth. His fingers gripped the blanket on his bed, bracing himself.

“Just got the DJ to play our song.” Bellamy let out a breath. Okay, it wasn’t as bad as he feared. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It is. I can handle the worse stuff, but I’ll hear that song or see his car and my brain just… breaks.” Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t dare interrupt her. He turned onto his side and pulled his pillow to his chest. He kept his ear pressed to the phone as he wrapped his arms tight around the pillow. “It happens sometimes. I can’t breathe and feel trapped and won’t calm down. That’s why I called you.”

“To calm you down?”

“Yeah. Your voice usually keeps me calm.” And there was that flutter in his chest again, dancing in rhythm with her words. It was the wrong moment for him to get this feeling, but that didn’t stop his throat from going dry at the realization that she wanted to hear his voice. That she looked to him to keep her calm. That she wanted _him_ when she was scared.

He hugged his pillow a little tighter, burying his face into it. “I should have been there.”

“I had Wells. It was okay.”

“But—”

“And now I have you.” There was no question in her small voice, just a statement of fact. She had him, relied on him, maybe even needed him… “Tell me something.”

“Octavia is getting to keep her Facebook.”

“Does that mean you’re making one too?” Clarke asked.

“Hell no.” And Clarke giggled at his annoyed tone, and a smile tugged at his lips. “That site is a waste of time, thank you very much.”

“But you could be my Facebook friend.”

“That doesn’t actually mean anything,” he muttered, and her giggle transformed into a full-on laugh.

“You can post pictures and tag your friends. You could see your friend’s photos and comment on them. It’s fun!”

“Still not convinced.”

“You’re such an old man,” she teased, her voice growing stronger than before. She was starting to sound like his Clarke again. “If you had a Facebook, you’d get to see all the cute photos of me and Wells tonight.”

“Already saw them. Octavia showed them to me.”

“Well, where is my compliment about how cute we looked?” Clarke giggled, and Bellamy chuckled into the pillowcase.

“You guys looked okay.” Clarke let out a loud scoff, which caused Bellamy’s laughter to grow. “I’m kidding. You looked beautiful.” She was silent in response, which made Bellamy feel like he had crossed a line by using that word. After all, they were friends, and friends didn’t call each other beautiful, did they? “And tell Wells he looked beautiful too.” A quiet giggle escaped her lips, and he let out a sigh of relief. That saved it. “Your turn.”

“Mrs. Sydney used the ruler on us,” Clarke snorted.

“What?”

“She thought we were dancing too close together and used it to nudge us apart.”

“Were you grinding on Wells?”

“Fuck no!” Clarke shouted as Bellamy laughed. “He’s like my brother.”

“Mrs. Sydney didn’t seem to think so,” he teased.

“Your turn.”

“Oh, I’m not done—”

“Your turn!” she insisted again while laughing. It was this warm, happy noise, one he hardly ever heard. She’d occasionally snort or give a short giggle, but this was the real one. The one that came out when she couldn’t keep it in, the kind that was so loud she might wake up the whole house.

“I like your laugh.”

“Oh my God, no you don’t. It’s awful.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s nice.” And he was grateful to hear it after her earlier phone call. A laugh never broke his heart, but her sobs certainly did. “Your turn.”

Their little game of phone tag went on for two hours, covering everything from Clarke getting angry that the school changed the shoe dress code again to Bellamy ranting about bike lane laws. Clarke started yawning around one in the morning. “You should go to sleep.”

“Not tired,” she mumbled.

“Pretty sure you are,” he snorted.

“Fine, I just don’t want to stop talking to you.” Her words shouldn’t surprise him. After all, they spent most nights just like this. Obviously, she enjoyed talking to him. But hearing her admit it… it threw him for a moment. It was an acknowledgement that they were something. That he was important to her. That he and these conversations meant something to her.

It probably said a lot about him that this realization triggered an emotional response for him. Perhaps that he was starved for this kind of verbal affection. It wasn’t like Bellamy kept many friends. And he certainly wasn’t getting it at home with how exhausted his mother was most days and with how annoyed Octavia seemed to always be with him since she turned thirteen.

“I don’t want to stop talking to you either,” he whispered. He laid on his stomach now, wrapped up in his blankets. “Your turn.”

“Did you really think I looked beautiful in the photos or were you just saying that?”

He cracked a smile at her question, the heat rising to his cheeks. Of course, she didn’t forget he said that. “I wasn’t just saying that.” But Clarke already knew that. There was no way she could look in the mirror every morning and not see it.

She didn’t say anything in response to that, instead going quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Your turn.”

“I wish I had gone tonight.”

“No, you don’t. You hate these things, remember?”

“Yeah, but I could have been there for you.”

“Bell, let’s not do this again,” she sighed. “How could you have known? And it’s not like you can always be there.”

“I can try,” he protested.

“Are you always this protective?” she teased.

“No.” Just for his sister and mom. Sometimes Murphy. And now, Clarke. “Your turn.”

“Sometimes, I… never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Sometimes, I wish you were here,” she whispered as if it were some secret confession.

“Me too.” He loved talking to her on the phone, but he was itching to see her. It wasn’t the same at school when Clarke was on her guard. Bellamy wanted to see her when she was like this, all relaxed and happy… something he only got a glimmer of over the phone.

“But this is okay. You know, us talking on the phone. It’s like you’re here.” A loud yawn stopped her before she said anything else, and he rolled his eyes.

“Go to sleep.”

“No. Your turn,” she mumbled.

So, he just talked about the ACT, making it as dull as he possibly could. He could hear Clarke shifting, clearly struggling to keep her eyes open. But by the time he ended his rant about the not mandatory yet still kind of mandatory writing section, her breathing had completely evened out. “Clarke?” he whispered, grinning to himself when she didn’t respond.

Bellamy put his phone on speaker before plugging it in to charge. He should probably hang up, but he liked knowing she was there, even if she was asleep. He let his eyes fall shut and listened to her quiet breaths until he couldn’t stay awake any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexual assault

“Did you go through the practice questions?” Bellamy asked before taking a bite of his apple.

“Nope. Took a nap during study hall instead,” Clarke snorted. Behind Bellamy, she could see Finn giving her a strange look as he got up and left his normal lunch table. He had been doing that almost every day since Clarke first started sitting with Bellamy and Murphy.

Finn had been acting different, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He bothered her less, but the looks of pining and brooding stares increased. Clarke was pretty sure that was because of Bellamy and how much time she spent with him now. She wasn’t a sitting duck if someone was with her. Or maybe Diyoza really did put the fear of God in him this time. Clarke’s mom hadn’t gotten off the principal’s back ever since Homecoming.

“Speaking of, where were you during study hall?” She focused back on Bellamy, cocking her head to the side. “Sinclair was out, so I got an extra study hall. I thought I could come sit with you, but I couldn’t find you during your nap time.”

“Oh, I hid out on the stage.” Bellamy furrowed his brows as if he had a question, but he just continued eating his apple. “It’s just… it’s quiet up there. Nobody shuffling around in their lockers and I don’t have to hear Bryan reading off the latest FML posts. It’s my secret hide out.”

Before Bellamy could say anything, Murphy dropped his tray onto the table and let out a loud groan. “Guess who got demerits?”

“I did for not getting my hair cut,” Bellamy said.

“I’m obviously talking about me,” Murphy huffed before turning toward Clarke. He propped his head onto his hand, obscuring Bellamy from his view. “Why is everything about him?” he smirked, and a small giggle escaped Clarke’s lips. As much as she hated to admit it, Murphy was kind of growing on her. She thought he was just a total dick, and for the most part, that was a correct assessment. Except he had the tiniest of soft spots for Bellamy and enough snark to make sitting in this awful cafeteria bearable. Clarke almost considered him a friend, which was something she never thought she’d say about John Murphy.

“I can hear you,” Bellamy muttered, and Clarke’s laugh only grew louder.

“Anyway, I just got demerits for being on my phone even though I was just trying to make it stop vibrating.”

“Put it on fucking silent,” Bellamy groaned, and Murphy slapped his hands on the table.

“It is on silent!”

“No, it’s on vibrate.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s literally not!” Bellamy huffed, throwing his head back. “Vibration is literally the definition of sound.”

“Vibration is literally the definition of sound,” Murphy mocked, and Clarke had to cover her mouth to keep from cackling. Every day, they picked a silly fight like this. Both of them got a little too hotheaded over nothing and kept going until Clarke intervened or Murphy made a dramatic exit.

“Murphy, you deserved the demerits,” Clarke said, and Murphy slapped the table again.

“Thank you,” Bellamy grinned, and that smile made something flip in her stomach. “Who was calling you anyway?”

“Emori. Butt dial of all things.”

“How is Emori?” Clarke teased, nudging Murphy with her elbow. Bellamy rolled his eyes and the smallest of blushes crept up Murphy’s neck and flooded his cheeks.

“She’s fine,” he mumbled.

“He’s trying to figure out how to tell her that he loves her while still pretending to be cool,” Bellamy said, and Clarke’s jaw dropped.

“Seriously?” Murphy groaned, and Clarke swears she heard him kick Bellamy under the table. “You want me gossiping about your love life too? Because I have dirt.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t date, so there’s nothing to tell,” Bellamy snorted.

Clarke looked down at her tray, not sure why that bothered her. She suspected he didn’t date, or at the very least, was very private about his love life. If he were dating someone, she’d surely know about it. They talk on the phone for hours every night. It would come up.

“Really? How is Roma?” Bellamy blinked a few times, like he had been caught. That name sounded familiar. Maybe he mentioned Roma before. But he certainly never mentioned anything… romantic between them. Clarke would have remembered that.

“Don’t know. Haven’t talked to her in a while,” he replied, and that answer should have made Clarke feel better. But something dark was churning in her stomach, a feeling she hated. She knew so little about Bellamy’s life outside of school and their phone calls. Clarke knew he had a lot of friends in his neighborhood and got invited to parties every now and then. It shouldn’t surprise her if some of those friends were girls he was interested in and maybe even dated. But for some reason, that did surprise her. And made her feel a little nauseous.

“I’m gonna go work on those practice questions,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the table.

“Now?” Bellamy asked, narrowing his eyes at her as she picked up the tray. All she could do was nod before taking the tray back into the kitchen. She could still feel Bellamy giving her a strange look as she darted out into the hallway toward the stage.

Clarke was being stupid. Jealous for no reason. She had gotten so used to Bellamy being her person, her only person really, that she forgot she might not be his only person. Of course, there were girls. Probably gorgeous girls from his old school, the ones he had a shared history with. And Bellamy was a good looking guy. Outside of this snobby school, he probably had girls throwing themselves at him, and she doubted any of them carried the kind of baggage Clarke does and are prone to panic attacks.

Her stomach dropped at that thought, realizing what specifically about Murphy mentioning Roma had Clarke practically running out of the cafeteria.

Her mind was so full of questions and confusion that she didn’t notice that she walked right by Finn in the hallway until he grabbed her arm. She jumped, but he didn’t let go.

“Clarke, are you okay?” he asked, and she just… froze. Her mind was yelling at her to get away from him, but her body just couldn’t comprehend.

“I gotta go,” she stuttered out. She tried to pull her wrist out of his hold, but her movements felt too weak. Like she wasn’t even trying.

“Hey, what’s going on?” His voice was so soft, and it felt too familiar. Loving, even. Like the voice she heard when she bombed her first ACT attempt and needed someone to listen to her cry. Or the one that comforted her each year on the anniversary of her dad’s death. It was like a siren’s song, luring her into the rocks, giving her what she so desperately wanted to hear that she didn’t notice where it was taking her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, the tears starting to form in her eyes. Clarke didn’t know why she was starting to cry. It couldn’t just be because of Bellamy… because really, that was nothing. It wasn’t like Clarke was anything more than a friend to him. She’s known that, and she’s fine with it. Clarke knew she was too much of a mess for anything more anyway. If Bellamy was interested in that Roma girl, then she should be happy for him. So, she can’t make sense of the tears slipping down her cheeks.

Arms wrapped around her, and Clarke let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t remember the last time someone held her. Her heart panged with how much she missed such a simple touch. It was familiar and warm, almost like coming home after a long trip. But then she remembered who was hugging her, and when she did, she couldn’t breathe. She tried shoving Finn off her, but his grip was too tight around her.

“You’re okay,” he told her.

“No, I’m not!” She pushed against him again, but this time, he pushed back, trapping her against the wall.

“Everything’s okay.”

Clarke wasn’t sure why she stopped trying to push back. Maybe her muscle memory kicked in and paralyzed her as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. Maybe some sick part of her wanted to feel his hands grope at her, like it was evidence that at least someone wanted her. Or maybe, and more likely, the realization that she would never get to stop fighting him off was finally sinking in. This… this was just how her life was going to be. Always searching for him in a crowd, always feeling hunted. Paralyzed by the sweet memories, feeling the combination of love and loathing drown her fight or flight instinct until she completely submitted. This was her life now.

His hand slipped up her uniform skirt, and she broke out into another sob. “Hey,” he whispered, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze. Too gentle, like he would do when she actually wanted this. Like he was fumbling around in his backseat while Clarke reminded him to hurry up so she didn’t miss her curfew instead of groping her while she sobbed in the middle of an empty hallway. “I love you.”

Those words made something snap in her, like she was waking up again.

“No, you don’t. No one does, remember?” she choked out. “That’s what you told me.”  Confusion passed through his eyes, as if he didn’t remember all the horrible things he said while talking her into killing herself. But Clarke could never forget.

She shoved him back, hearing his back thump against the emergency exit door as she sprinted down the hallway. She made turn after turn, hoping to throw him off if he was following her, before darting into the faculty bathroom and locking the door.

Her first thought was that she needed to wash her hands. But as she lathered the soap between her hands, she found herself scrubbing hard at the skin. Her pale hands turned bright red as she scrubbed and scrubbed, but she just couldn’t get them feeling clean. It was like something was crawling over her skin, and it just wouldn’t come off. It crept up her arms, and Clarke scrubbed at them until her forearms were bright pink.

When she rinsed them off with cold water, she thought she was done. But then, she smelled Finn’s Axe Body Spray on her. And before her mind could catch up, Clarke squirted more soap onto her hands and scrubbed at her neck until it was as red and splotchy as her face.

And she could still taste him. The Monster energy drink and pizza combo he liked so much. She fell to her knees, craning her neck so she could drink straight from the bathroom faucet. The water got everywhere as she tried to guzzle it down and get rid of the taste, but it just wouldn’t leave. She could feel him everywhere, kissing her, grabbing her, holding her.

The bell rang, but Clarke made no move toward the bathroom door. She just cried into the bathroom sink. She stayed there at least four minutes because when the bell rang again, she hadn’t moved from her spot.

Spanish class was starting, but Clarke just took her time dabbing at her neck with a damp paper towel. Mrs. Sydney would likely give her demerits for being late, maybe even knock off a few points for today’s quiz. An dark chuckle escaped her throat when she realized that meant she would go to Demerit School with Bellamy and Murphy this weekend.

When Clarke stepped out of the bathroom, she had every intention of walking toward her class. But her feet didn’t take her there. They didn’t take her toward Finn. No, she ended up on the stage, falling to her knees as soon as the door creaked shut behind her… not quite sure how she even got there.

The floor was cold, soothing even. She pressed her cheek into the ground, loving how the chill soothed her burning skin. Clarke curled up on her side, letting her eyes fall shut.

She didn’t fall asleep, but it sort of felt like she did. Her mind went completely blank, only focusing on the quiet vibration from under the floor. Clarke found herself picking at some dried paint, watching in a trance as her thumb nail peeled off piece after piece.

Her beautiful silence was disturbed by the door creaking open, and in a flash, she sat up and pressed her back against the wall.

“Clarke?” Bellamy whispered, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. A weak smile begins to form on her lips as he steps toward her, his eyes full of concern. “What happened? You and Finn both weren’t in class, so if he—” Suddenly, it was like he was too close to her and her body jerked away from him in a panic. “Clarke?”

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered out, clenching her eyes shut. The floor creaked under his feet, and she jerked open one eye to see him take a smaller step towards her. “Stop!”

Bellamy put his hands up defensively, and he slowly crouched down so he was eye level with her. “Clarke, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed before burying her face into her hands. “I don’t know why I just… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just want to know what’s going on. I’m worried about you.” She could hear his voice break and hated herself even more for flinching when he tried to get closer to her. Clarke wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but it felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Okay, then just tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

Clarke swallowed. Her mind was screaming a thousand different things, none of them coherent. “I still haven’t done the practice questions,” was all she could come up with.

“I only did two, so we’ll both be fucked together.”

“Tell me something.”

“Murphy stole my brownie after you left.” A snort escaped her. “It’s not funny. I’m pissed.”

“No, you’re not. He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Fine, he’s your second best friend,” she conceded.

“Tell me something.”

“I will steal a brownie from him at some point in the future to avenge you,” she teased, though her tone fell flat. When she looked over at Bellamy, he was staring back at her with sad eyes. She sucked in a deep breath before whispering, “Tell me something.”

“I think I should go get Principal Diyoza.” Her stomach lurched at the idea of him getting up. “That’s what I should do, right? Because Finn…” He trailed off, his eyes still confused as he looked for her to finish the sentence.

But she couldn’t choke those words out. So, she just nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice shaky as he pushed himself up to his feet. Slowly, Clarke lied back down on the ground, though the cool floor didn’t soothe her like it did before. “You stay right here.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He didn’t move right away. Clarke could feel his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes again. She let her eyes fall shut, already counting the seconds until Bellamy came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get up, but it was a hard one. A problem I keep encountering with this fic is how to turn what happened to me into a story that makes sense, and this specific day of my life still doesn't make sense to me. I never really got answers. I don't know what, if anything, provoked it. It just came out of nowhere, and I think that's probably how this chapter feels. 
> 
> I had to keep the more graphic details out because it was just too triggering to write. And I think this makes it safer to read too. 
> 
> Anyway, I have the next chapter mostly written. I'll try to get it up soon. Thanks for being patient with me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to leave town for a few days, so I figured I'd throw one more update at you guys before then.

When Bellamy made it up the stairs, he spotted Clarke in the exact same spot he left her. She was curled up on the ground, her fingers tracing a circle into the ground. Her blonde hair was spread out on the dark floor, and her arms and neck looked just as pink as before.

He was about to step towards her when Diyoza touched his shoulder. He glanced back at her, and she just shook her head. He bit down on his lip as he stepped backward.

“Hey, Clarke,” Principal Diyoza whispered, and Clarke jerked up again, pressing into the wall just like she did when Bellamy found her. The terrified expression in her eyes was all he needed to guess at what happened. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me and Bellamy here.” Clarke’s eyes darted up to meet his, still full of tears. Bellamy forced a weak smile, not sure there was anything else he could do.

He felt so powerless just standing there. And maybe if Bellamy had left the cafeteria with Clarke, whatever Finn did might not have happened.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I’m not in class.” Bellamy dropped his head. Only Clarke Griffin would be worried about missing class at a time like this. “I don’t… I’ve never skipped class before. I swear.” She broke into another sob, and the sound alone made him feel like his chest was being torn apart.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Diyoza murmured. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you for missing class. I’m worried about you. Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened?” Clarke opened her mouth, but her bottom lip began to quiver again.  “Or just tell me what you want to do. You want to stay in here or come back to my office? It’s nice and quiet in there. I’ve even got a couch you can lie down on.”

Clarke’s eyes flickered over to Bellamy, and he gave her a silent nod. “Yeah,” she whispered before looking back at Diyoza. “Can I call my mom first?”

“Of course.” Diyoza pulled her cellphone out of her back pocket, but when she held it out for her to take it, Clarke jumped again. “It’s okay. Just dial her number. I’ll talk to her for a second before you can talk to her, okay?” Her hands shook as she took the phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed. Her lips twitched when Diyoza took the phone back, but at least she didn’t jump this time. “Dr. Griffin, this is Principal Diyoza. There seems to have been an incident between your daughter and Finn Collins, so we are going to need you to come to the school as quickly as possible. No, she is… well, she is very shaken up, but she will be okay.” Her eyes flickered over to Clarke, clearly unsure of the assessment. “Yeah, she wants to talk to you.”

Clarke turned away from them when she got the phone in her hands. “Mom,” she whispered before breaking into another sob. Diyoza threw her hands over her head and began pacing. And Bellamy just stood there, frozen and helpless. “I wanna go home. I don’t… I didn’t even see him. He was just there.”

The back door flew open and Diyoza’s secretary came in. “His car is gone. Finn must have left campus,” she told her.

“He grabbed me and I couldn’t get him off me,” Clarke choked out.

“Get Finn’s parents on the phone,” Diyoza hissed.

“I didn’t push hard enough. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re having to leave work because of me.” He could hear Clarke’s mom reassuring her through the phone, and he could tell that Dr. Griffin felt just as helpless as Bellamy did.

The rest of the call was mostly Clarke listening to her mom. From what he could tell, Dr. Griffin was giving her instructions. Clarke put her hand on top of her head and seemed to be attempting deep breaths. He found himself breathing along with her, desperate to calm down too.

He wasn’t sure how long Clarke stayed on the phone, but by the time she handed the phone back to Diyoza, she wasn’t hyperventilating anymore.

“Alright, why don’t we go to my office?” Diyoza asked once she got off the phone with Dr. Griffin. “And Bellamy, you should probably get back to class.”

Clarke struggled a bit as she pushed herself to her feet. He was itching to help her up, his body desperate to catch her as she wobbled once on her feet. But the memory of the panic in her eyes when he tried to take a step towards her stilled him. As much as he wanted to help her, there was nothing he could do right this second that wouldn’t scare her again.

“Bellamy, get back to class,” Diyoza repeated. “I will take care of Clarke, okay?” He kept his eyes on her, feeling something sharp twist in his chest at the idea of leaving her side right now. It was hard enough to leave her to get Diyoza.

Her blue eyes met his, still red but no longer full of tears. “You’ll come find me after, right?” she whispered.

“Of course.” Diyoza cleared her throat, and even though he hated to do it, Bellamy left the stage and went back to class.

 

* * *

 

The day went by in a blur. He had forgotten how boring his classes were before he had Clarke to joke around with. Now, he just finds himself watching the clock, counting each second that passes.

Word of what happened traveled fast. He’d catch pieces of gossip while walking from class to class. He even overheard Pike tell Sinclair that the school was pulling the surveillance tape. No one seemed to know any more than Bellamy did, which was already very little. Just that Finn got aggressive with Clarke, Clarke has been sequestered to the principal’s office, Finn hasn’t been seen since the incident, and both of their moms were now on campus.

When the final bell rang, he nearly sprinted to the administrative building. And there Clarke was, sitting on the couch outside Diyoza’s office, pressing out the creases in her skirt.

“Clarke,” he whispered, and her head snapped up. Her eyes weren’t red anymore, but her makeup was smeared.

A weak smile formed on her lips. “Hi.”

He took a hesitant step inside, watching her face as he stepped toward her. She didn’t jump or flinch this time, so he let himself take a seat on the opposite side of the couch. “Are you… okay?”

“Suspension is sufficient disciplinary action, Mrs. Griffin,” he heard Headmaster Wallace say on the other side of the door.

“Dr. Griffin,” she corrected.

“Fine. The point is, expulsion will only be on the table if Finn’s behavior escalates.”

“He attacked her on campus. What kind of escalation will be enough for you? If he succeeds in raping my daughter?”

Too many voices started shouting over each other after that, and Bellamy couldn’t make out who was yelling what. But Clarke was completely silent, just staring at her skirt with a glazed over look in her eyes.

“Clarke,” he whispered. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I got two demerits,” she mumbled so quietly that he could barely hear her over Diyoza shouting for everyone to calm down. “Wallace gave them to me. Dress code violation.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“My skirt is a quarter of an inch too short.” Bellamy clenched his fist at his side. What the hell is Headmaster Wallace thinking? Clarke had an anxiety attack after being assaulted by her stalker, and instead of helping her, he punished her for the dumbest of dress code violations.

Her tears started up again. “I knew it was too short, and my mom said she would let the hem out. But she’s been so busy, and I should have reminded her last weekend—”

“Clarke.” She swallowed, slowly tilting her head up so she could look at him. “It happens. Wallace is just being a dick, okay?” She bit down on her lip and nodded. “Is there anything I can do? I just… I want to do something, but I don’t know what I can do.”

She was about to say something, but another screaming match started behind the door. He clenched his eyes shut and slammed the back of his head into the wall. If this weren’t a private school, Finn Collins would have been gone a year ago. If his family wasn’t buying a whole damn sports complex for the school, he’d have a restraining order against him. If everyone believed Clarke right away, she wouldn’t be sobbing on this couch right now after going through God knows what.

He hated all of them. Every teacher that let Finn bother her in class. Every classmate who gossiped about Clarke. Every faculty member who got a front row seat yet stayed out of it because they didn’t want to risk pissing off a powerful member of the board. All of them could burn in hell for all he cared.

His eyes jerked open when he felt something warm cover his fist. It was Clarke’s hand, just resting over his. When he glanced up at her, she wasn’t looking at him. No, her gaze was fixed on his hand.

He was slow as he relaxed his hand, careful not to startle her. She didn’t jerk away, though she did pull her hand off his as he turned it so his palm faced up. Tentatively, Clarke rested her hand on his again, her fingers falling into the spaces between his. Bellamy had never noticed how small her hands were before. His looked massive in comparison.

“This okay?” she whispered.

“Of course.” He could feel her hand relax in his at those words, and he let out a sigh of relief. Bellamy let his eyes fall shut, and just focused on the weight of her hand on his. It’s nice, holding her hand. Comforting. A reminder that she’s still there even if she doesn’t want to talk. That she is, on some level, okay. Not all that different than their silent phone calls, but listening to her turn pages for hours without a word doesn’t give him the same warmth in his chest that holding her hand does.

Each time someone raises their voice on the other side of the door, Clarke would squeeze his hand. He’d squeeze back, carefully though. Her hand felt so fragile in his. He’s almost scared of breaking it.

Clarke stared blankly in front of her. There was no sign of a panic attack or tears. She just looked tired and sad. A little broken and out of it.

Bellamy can’t understand how someone like her ended up with a monster like Finn. If Bellamy ever had someone like Clarke, he would be so careful. How anyone could know her and still hurt her like this is beyond him. Just like how he could never understand why Octavia’s dad could strike his mom like that when she did nothing but love him.

The door finally swung open, and out came Wallace and who he can only assume is Finn’s mom. Bellamy started to pull his hand away, but Clarke gripped on tight, squeezing his hand like her life depended on it.

Neither of them said a thing as they walked by Clarke, but Finn’s mom shot her a nasty glare right before leaving the room.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Diyoza started to say.

“You’re damn right it’s not,” Dr. Griffin hissed as she strode out of the office. She froze when she saw Bellamy, her eyes drifting down to where his hand was joined with Clarke’s. After blinking a few times, she glanced back at Clarke. “Sweetie, are you ready to go home?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clarke mumbled before slipping her hand out of his. He hated the way his stomach clenched as she pulled away, but he knew it was coming. He couldn’t just hold her hand forever. Nor would she want him to.

“Hi, um, I’m Bellamy,” he said as he pushed himself off the couch. When he extended his hand to her, Clarke’s mom smirked slightly.

“Ah, you’re Bellamy,” she said, glancing over at Clarke before taking his hand. “Good to put a face to the name.” Bellamy looked over at Clarke, now panicked about what all she could have told her mom about him. It couldn’t be anything bad… or at least, he was pretty sure that was the case. “Alright, let’s get going.”

Bellamy shuffled to the side as Clarke and her mom made their way to the door, his stomach in knots as he watched her walk away.

“You did the right thing coming to get me today,” Diyoza whispered, and Bellamy pressed his lips together.

“He’s just getting a slap on the wrist, isn’t he?”

She looked down at the ground, pressing her lips into a hard line. He rolled his eyes as he picked his backpack off the ground. “I did what I could.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Party, part one. AKA, the very first night I ever got drunk along with all the weird decisions that came with it.

“Maybe we could talk about your plans for Thanksgiving,” Dr. Tsing tried, but Clarke just focused on petting the therapy dog. Tsing wasn’t her favorite therapist of all the ones she’d been forced to see, but she does have a pretty cool dog, so Clarke is a little less hostile about having to come to Tsing’s office.

“I agreed to be here. I didn’t agree to talk,” she muttered, scratching behind the dog’s ear. He was a calm little thing. Didn’t jump on her or get too excited. Just settled next to her.

“But maybe if you talked to me, your mom wouldn’t be all over you all the time.” Clarke let out a groan. “She’s driving you nuts, isn’t she? Fussing over you, even in my lobby.”

It had been weeks since Finn attacked her in the hallway, but her mom was acting like it was just yesterday. Every night was a family dinner night now. Clarke wasn’t allowed to be in the house all alone. She was basically on suicide watch again but no one dared bring up the “s” word.

“She thinks I want to kill myself.”

“Do you?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Of course not. And she’ll figure that out eventually.” For now, Clarke has to endure mandatory family movie nights and Marcus’s awkward attempts at bonding like that time last week when he asked if she wanted to go outside and “throw a ball around.”

“So, what are you doing over your Thanksgiving break?”

“Nothing really. Wells will be home, so I’ll see him.” Though she wasn’t sure she was looking forward to that. She still hadn’t told him what happened with Finn. She meant to, she really did. But it was kind of nice having someone who didn’t know. Wells talked to her like he normally would, not like her mom who fussed at every opportunity or Bellamy… who she felt bad complaining about.

Bellamy was worried about her, that’s all. Not his fault that his eyes looked a little sad whenever he looked at her. They still talked on the phone every night. He never pushed her to talk about Finn, and he listened whenever she brought him up. He was her favorite person to talk to… but sometimes, she wanted to pretend that nothing happened. And that was impossible with Bellamy since he was the one who found her on that stage. Clarke just always worries it’s on his mind every time he looks at her. Like he has this picture of her heaving on the stage floor, jumping as soon as he got too close.

“Do you want to talk about Finn today?” she asked.

“No,” Clarke huffed before petting the dog again. “Why is everything about Finn? Bad enough everything was about him when we were together, but I shouldn’t have to put up with that anymore!”

“That’s not what I was—”

“Yeah, he assaulted me, or whatever.” That word still didn’t feel right. “And everyone is so freaked out about it. I was too, but I’m fine now. It’s really not a big deal.” Finn was leaving her completely alone now. Whatever happened after his mom got dragged to the school must have scared the shit out of him, because he didn’t so much as look in Clarke’s direction.

“It is a big deal, Clarke.”

“It wasn’t even that different than our first kiss.”

Tsing dropped her pen. “What do you mean?”

“I just…” Her mind flashed back to her first kiss, being pushed back against the lockers and met with a hard, wet kiss to her lips. It wasn’t how she wanted her first kiss to be. In her head, it would be somewhere special and after they had been together for a while, not two weeks after going on their first date up against his locker… while he still had another girlfriend she didn’t know about. And she told him she wanted to wait. That she wanted it to be special. It seems stupid now, but back then, her first kiss had been something she had been dreaming about for years. But in the end, she didn’t have it on a special anniversary or after a slow dance. She got it while being crowded against a locker, unable to pull away in time. “This just isn’t that new to me. Finn’s always been kind of like that. But back then, we were together, so it was fine.”

“Not if it wasn’t something you consented to do, Clarke.”

“I mean, he was my boyfriend.”

“That’s not relevant.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s not the same thing when you’re dating.”

“What I think I’m hearing is that Finn coerced you into doing things you didn’t want to,” Tsing said, and Clarke bit down on her lip and nodded. That wasn’t a wrong assessment, though something about it felt off. Like maybe the problem was that Clarke wasn’t more clear or went along with things too easily. She could feel her heartrate begin to rise like it always did before a panic attack. She grew nauseous, and all she wanted to do was run out of this office. “It doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend or not—"

“Can we talk about Thanksgiving?” she asked, feeling the tears start to threaten in her eyes.

“Clarke, we were starting to get somewhere,” Tsing sighed as she handed the box of tissues over to her.

“I need to talk about something else.” Anything else, really. Tsing picked up her pen from the floor, shaking her head slightly.

 

* * *

 

“You’re going to a party,” Bellamy said, almost in disbelief.

“I go to parties, Bellamy,” she snorted before switching the phone to the other ear. “I can be fun.”

“But is this like a real party?”

“Yeah, it’s a real party! Mr. Jaha is going out of town, so Wells is throwing one.” After a beat, Bellamy started laughing. “What is so funny?” With a huff, she jumped back into her bed, still feeling bloated from Thanksgiving dinner.

“Just the image of you, the perfect Clarke Griffin, going to a real party,” he chuckled, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. “Bet you’ve never even had a sip of alcohol before.”

“I have too. A bunch of times.” Though more realistically it was Clarke choking down one beer and then faking being drunk because she couldn’t stand the taste enough to drink another.

“Sure you have.”

“I have!”

“Uh huh. So, you’re going to a party.” He paused. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it hasn’t been that long since… you know.” Her stomach dropped when she realized what he was talking about. “If there are a lot of people there, it might be a little much.” For weeks, Clarke had mostly kept to herself. Even being in the cafeteria was a little overwhelming. Too much noise made it a little hard to keep her thoughts together. More often than not, she just snagged a sandwich and ate it outside. Most days Bellamy and Murphy joined her, but they didn’t really talk much… probably because Bellamy was so worried about Clarke and didn’t want to overwhelm her.

“I’ll be fine. You know, it’s what normal people do. I can handle it.” Besides, there was no risk of Finn being there. So it’s not like she would get overwhelmed like she does at school. 

“But—”

“And you should come too. Wells wants to meet you, and this will be your one opportunity to see me drunk.”

“Well,” he started, and her stomach dropped. It was stupid for her to even invite him. It’s not like they ever did anything outside of school and these phone calls. But when Wells suggested she invite Bellamy, she got so excited that he might be there. Giddy, even. Everything else in her life has been hell since Finn attacked her, but Bellamy is consistently the one thing that never fails to bring a smile to her face. “I’d like to, but I can’t. Mom’s working and I’ve gotta stay here with O.”

“Right, of course. Forget I ever asked.” Now she felt stupid for wasting so much time picking out a dress to wear.

“I would have gone if—”

“I know. It’s fine.” She shouldn’t be disappointed. It’ll still be a fun party. At the very least, she’ll get to be with Wells for a night. “Tell me something.”

 

* * *

 

Wells enveloped her in a hug as soon as she walked in, and she froze. No one else touched her anymore. Her mom and Marcus watched her jump enough to know it startled her, and Bellamy had been keeping his physical distance. But Wells, completely unaware that this was the same way Finn grabbed her, just tightened his grip around her, chuckling happily as he swayed her from side to side.

Clarke slammed her eyes shut, trying not to move or flinch. But she could feel her heart pound and the nausea build up again…

No. She wasn’t doing this. Not tonight. This was her one chance to spend time with someone who didn’t know what happened, and she wasn’t going to let herself have a panic attack and blow it.

“You okay?” he asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah, just a little tired,” she lied, and he started pulling her by the hand into the kitchen. There were a handful of people scattered throughout the downstairs, none of whom she recognized.

“Well, wake up and catch up.” He snatched a beer bottle out of the fridge and handed it to her. “When’s your boyfriend getting here?”

“You know I don’t have a boyfriend,” she snorted as she tried to pull the cap off. “Wait, are you talking about Bellamy?”

“The boy you stay up all night talking on the phone with every day. Of course not,” he teased while rolling his eyes. “Yes, I mean Bellamy.” Wells snatched the beer from her hand to pop the cap off before giving it back to her.

It tasted just as awful as she remembered, and he burst out laughing at her grimace. “He’s just my friend,” she said before coughing.

“Still? How?”

“It’s not like that.” She took another swig. It went down easier. “He doesn’t date. And I’m pretty sure there is some girl named Roma that he likes.” Just saying her name made Clarke feel a little sick. She wanted to ask Bellamy about her, or just about his love life in general, but she just couldn’t do it. Too many years of Finn calling her jealous and psycho when she asked questions has her terrified of sounding like that to Bellamy… when really, she just wants to know.

“But if he did date and there wasn’t some girl named Roma…” Clarke drank again to avoid responding. “You like him, don’t you?”

“No,” she said. “Maybe. I don’t know.” She had been starting to entertain that idea before… but now it seemed pointless. Even if she did, she wouldn’t do anything about it. He’s her only friend other than Wells. Plus, he’s seen what a complete mess she is. There has to be someone out there who is uncomplicated that would actually have a shot with him. “Whatever. Nothing is gonna happen, and he’s not coming tonight.”

“So,” Wells whispered, his smile starting to grow, “I can be your wingman tonight?”

Clarke burst out laughing before realizing he was serious. “What? No. I’m in no shape to date anyone.”

“I didn’t say date. I just meant you could make out with somebody, maybe forget about Finn for a bit. Rebound and all that.”

Her eyes fell shut and her mind jerked back to the last time she was kissed… just weeks ago up against the wall. She shook it off, not allowing herself to go there tonight. No, tonight she was going to have fun and be normal.

“Or I could be your wingman,” Clarke offered, forcing a smile onto her lips. If Wells noticed her momentary panic earlier, he didn’t say anything.

“Do I look like I need a wingman?” he smirked, gesturing down his body.

“You’ll need a whole army of wingmen,” some guy said, and Clarke turned to see a tall guy with long brown hair striding into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Roan.” Right, one of his fraternity brothers. “Clarke, this is Roan. Roan, this is my best friend, Clarke.”

Roan turned his head to look at Clarke, a small smirk forming on his lips as he gave her a once over. Her cheeks turned pink under his gaze. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at her quite like that. But it was oddly kind of nice even though he was kind of sleazy. The attention made her feel almost attractive.

“She’s your best friend and yet you’re making her drink this shit?” he snorted, gesturing to the beer in her hands. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll make you something good.” His hand found the small of her back as he nudged her around the kitchen island. She didn’t jump. She may have held her breath, but at least she didn’t jump this time. When Clarke looked back at Wells, he was winking at her.

He made some concoction with fruit juice and vodka. She had never tried vodka before. It seemed too serious and intimidating. Liquor in general didn’t exist in her house growing up, just wine and beer. Vodka seemed to be the kind of thing you drink if you know how to drink, which Clarke did not. But she took it anyway, figuring anything had to be better than beer.

Roan watched her as she took her first sip… and it was actually kind of good. There was a sharp aftertaste, but it was so much better than having to choke down cheap beer. “Okay, I think I like it,” she said before taking another sip, and Roan patted her back just below her bra.

That’s the second time he’s touched her, and the second time she had to force herself not to flinch. It was harmless, really. He was just a flirt, not trying to hurt her. And once she got past the initial shock of being touched, it felt kind of nice. Comforting, even. It filled her chest with a warmth she hadn’t felt since Bellamy let her hold his hand outside the principal’s office. She hadn’t dared ask if she could do it again. It was probably just a one time thing, something that would freak him out if she repeated.

The alarms in her mind stopped going off, and Clarke let herself lean into Roan’s touch a little. His fingers fluttered against her back, and if she didn’t think about it, it felt just right.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was pretty sure she had never actually been drunk before. Pretended to be dozens of times, but never really was. But now, she had a total of four drinks and everything felt so… light. Like she was floating. And there was this goofy smile on her face that felt so good. The music was pounding and everyone was shouting over each other… but for once, none of it bothered her.

She felt like the old Clarke again. The one who walked into Arkadian on the first day with her head held high, ready to start over at a new school. The girl who ripped apart other debaters in cross-x and had a college application full of national and state titles. The Clarke Griffin who stood up to Finn and told him it was over. The strong Clarke. The happy one.

Wells kept pulling her to him to dance, and she didn’t even have to think about not flinching. She just melted into him, giggling as they twirled around clumsily. And then Roan would want a turn, and his flirty grin would make something flip in her stomach.

She liked the attention, which seemed so shallow to say. She didn’t bother to remember Roan’s last name, but she just beamed every time he slipped an arm around her waist or eyed her from across the room. She felt… wanted. And for once, that wasn’t a terrifying thing. When Finn gave her this kind of attention, her fight or flight instinct kicked in.

But it’s just now hitting her that it won’t always be like that. Maybe it’s because Finn was her only boyfriend, the only guy who ever seemed interested in her, the only person she has ever kissed… but she had never considered there might be someone else that she could get comfortable with again. That she might even let kiss her.

Clarke cocked her head to the side as she looked up at Roan. She could totally kiss him right now. It shouldn’t have been a lightbulb moment, but it was. She could kiss him, just to see what it’s like to kiss someone else, and walk away. Get it out of her system so she doesn’t freak out when she has to kiss someone for real. Finally get the taste of Finn Collins out of her mouth.

Before she could think better of it, she started tugging him by his hand toward the vacant kitchen. There was a knowing smirk on his lips. God, this probably happened to him all the time at college. The guy looks like a damn model and carries himself like one.

Roan walked her back until she hit the refrigerator, and suddenly, Finn jumped out in her mind. She quickly jerked that thought away and nudged Roan until his back was against it instead. Good. She isn’t trapped now. She can get away if she has to.

Where did _that_ come from? Two seconds ago, she was excited about the prospect that she could kiss someone, and now she’s back to counting exits and planning escape routes. No. Clarke wasn’t going down that road right now. She was going to kiss this random frat brother of Wells’s, and Finn wasn’t going to control her for once. If she didn’t do this now, she’d probably chicken out indefinitely.

She practically jumped Roan, standing all the way on the top of her toes as her lips fell against his. And it felt… empty. No warmth, no spark. Just skin on skin. He was… good at it, she thought. Though she has only one person to compare him to.

But then, his arms wrap around her, and that warmth came back. Maybe Clarke just liked being held. No one really holds her. Not since Finn, and even then, that was always a prelude to him getting something else in return.

When she closed her eyes, she felt a familiar fluttering in her chest. He’s warm all around her, and it just feels so safe, like how she imagined she’d feel if Bellamy ever held her. She bet she’d actually feel something if he was the one kissing her. And just thinking about it put that giddy feeling back in her chest, the one she was drowning in when she thought he might come to this party with her.

“Woah,” she heard Wells say, and Clarke jumped away from Roan. “Sorry um, I just… yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stepped back into the living room.

Clarke glanced up at Roan, and she felt kind of sick. She was just kissing him while thinking of Bellamy. Well, not just of Bellamy, but of kissing Bellamy. And she didn’t feel anything kissing Roan until her mind drifted to Bellamy.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gravely… the kind that would have given her chills five minutes ago. But now, it feels wrong. Clarke feels wrong. Maybe even guilty? Though her mind is too blurry from the alcohol to figure out how that would even make sense. She doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about. She’ll never see this guy again, and it’s not like Bellamy would even care.

“Yeah, just…” She glanced around the kitchen, looking for some excuse to step out other than the truthful one her drunk mind wants to blurt out. “I gotta pee.” And now that she said it out loud, she kind of did have to pee.

She stumbled down the hallway, only stopping once to cackle at a framed school photo of Wells on the wall, one from elementary school where he is grimacing and his hands look like they’re caressing the tree. But after she was done laughing, she was back on her mission to find the bathroom.

Then, she heard Wells yell, “Clarke, your boyfriend is here!”

She paused outside the bathroom door, wondering why he would say that. He knows she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and calling Roan that was a stretch. So, she just rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her.

It took until Clarke was fighting with the toilet paper holder that she remembered that Wells only called one person as her boyfriend: Bellamy Blake.

As soon as she was done, Clarke ran down the hall to find Bellamy drinking a beer with Wells by the front door. “You’re really here,” she said as she rushed up to them, the smile on her face no doubt big and goofy. Bellamy came.

“Yeah. Dropped O off at Niylah’s so I could see what the fuss was about,” he replied, but he made no move to hug her like Wells did earlier. Right. Bellamy knows, and so he’s scared to touch her. She forgot all about that. Bellamy’s so thoughtful like that. Giving her space so she doesn’t have another panic attack. But she just wants him to forget all that right now and hug her. Just let her feel a little loved for the night before the drunken happiness wore off and she went back to being the scared, anxious Clarke.

She took a small step towards him, hoping he could read between the lines and hug her. But he just looked at her, smiling easily in his nice button down and jeans. She could tell he tried to look nice, but the hoodie he threw on over it screamed that he didn’t want to appear like he tried.

“You alright?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Uh huh,” she replied. “Can I hug you?”

He started chuckling as he extended his arm out to her, and this exhilarating rush went through her as she closed the distance. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her face resting on the collar of his shirt, and his arm squeezed her tight against him.

It felt a lot like how Roan held her… but a little more right. The crisp smell of Bellamy’s soap, the feeling of his laugh echoing in his chest, the firm hand on her back were exactly what she was missing earlier. And he’s warm. So warm that she wants to bury her face in his chest and stay right here all night.

When he pulls away, her smile doesn’t fade. It feels loopy and blurred. Like a delirious grin. But she can’t help it. She just beams at him. He’s here and he held her for a brief second. Clarke didn’t run, didn’t even think of running. She felt safe and happy with him… and that hasn’t happened in so long. So, she smiled at him, brighter than she ever thought possible.

Fuck. Maybe she does like him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a long one, but a soft one. drunk Clarke part two. our girl is a mess, but so is Bellamy so it works out.

Bellamy kept staring at his phone. Clarke said she’d call when she got home safely, and he just waited by it like the anxious, overprotective mess he is. She probably wouldn’t go home for hours, and Bellamy would still be wide awake, waiting.

When she invited him, there was a moment where his heart rate picked up and a smile formed on his lips. He hasn’t seen her since they left for Thanksgiving break, and he has been missing school for the first time in his life just because it was where he got to see her. The reality of the situation came crashing down quickly, though. And he could tell that Clarke was disappointed. The deflation in her voice was immediate and heartbreaking, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

“You just gonna mope all night?” Octavia snorted from the other side of the couch.

“Not moping.”

“Just call Clarke. I can’t take you pouting anymore.”

“Can’t. She’s at a party.” And just thinking about it stressed him out. Yeah, he trusts her to make good decisions and stay safe. But given what happened with Finn, it scared the shit out of him to think of her at a party with alcohol in hand surrounded by drunk guys that might try to take advantage of her. Wells was the one throwing it, so that gave him some comfort. He doesn’t really know the guy, but he knows that he wouldn’t let Clarke get hurt.

“So, why aren’t you at the party? Were you not invited?”

“No, I was. But I can’t just leave you here.”

“You could drop me at Niylah’s.” He narrowed his eyes at her, seeing exactly what she was trying to pull. Octavia was grounded for another week for breaking Mom’s Facebook rules by posting that… revealing photo. That meant no more sleepovers, unless Bellamy conveniently “forgot” and dropped her off at Niylah’s while their mom was at work. “Come on. This way you can hang out with Clarke.”

“I can see her at school on Monday.”

“Fine, but if she meets her next boyfriend tonight when you’re not there, you’re gonna be wishing you dropped me off at Niylah’s,” she replied, propping her chin up defiantly.

“I think I’ll live,” he snorted before pushing himself off the couch. Octavia was just trying to get under his skin to get what she wants. It’s not like he cares what Clarke does at the party as long as she’s safe. Well, he cares… but officially, he does not.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he pulled out his phone and started texting Wells. After the Homecoming incident, he stole Bellamy’s number from Clarke’s phone and thought it would be good for them to be able to text in case of an emergency.

_Clarke doing ok?_

She probably was and he was overthinking everything. The protective feelings he had around Clarke only intensified after finding her on that stage, those tears in her eyes a regular source of his nightmares lately.

_She’s drunk as fuck. I counted 4 drinks._

After a few seconds, he got another text from Wells.

_She’s fine tho. Think she’s just sad ur not here._

That punched him right in the lungs, knocking the air out of him. Just like Clarke confessing over the phone that she wished he were there or the sad voice she used when asking if it was okay she was holding his hand.

Before he could think better of it, he asked Wells for his address and marched into the living room. “Go call Niylah and ask if you can come over.”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Bellamy knew that Wells Jaha’s family had money. But fuck. His house could fit Bellamy’s house and the one next door inside it easily. His mom’s beaten down truck looked out of place amongst all the shiny new cars, but he was used to that. Arkadian was full of cars like that out in the parking lot.

Bellamy shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way up to the house. The music was loud enough that he could hear it in the driveway, and the front door was cracked open. Inside, the house was packed with people he had never seen before in his life. At least that meant none of the assholes from Arkadian would be here.

He spotted Wells across the room, whose face immediately lit up in recognition. They hadn’t met in person yet, though he had seen enough photos of him to recognize Wells, and vice versa. He stumbled across the room, snagging a beer out of a cooler before making his way to Bellamy. “You actually came,” Wells said, slurring just a little.

A nervous laugh escaped Bellamy, and he took the beer from him. “Figured I could stop by,” Bellamy shrugged, and Wells narrowed his eyes at him. “So, where is Clarke?” He kept scanning the room, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Clarke, your boyfriend is here!” Wells yelled, throwing his head back.

“Really?” Bellamy groaned, and Wells burst out laughing.

“Wait, Clarke has a boyfriend?” some guy asked, stepping around Wells. He was a big guy, with long brown hair. There was no way this guy was a high schooler. He’d guess a sophomore in college at least.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Bellamy huffed. “I’m her friend.”

“This guy talks to her on the phone every night and doesn’t hang up after she falls asleep. He might as well be her boyfriend,” Wells snorted. The other guy looked over at Bellamy, his brows furrowed, before glancing back at Wells.

“Huh,” he muttered before walking off, and Wells covered his mouth as he laughed.

“So, how is Clarke holding up?” Bellamy took a swig of his beer, narrowing his eyes at Wells, who had a strange expression on his face.

“She’s fine. Just drunk,” he shrugged.

“Even around all this?” Bellamy asked, gesturing to the loud speakers and crowd of strangers. Clarke’s anxiety has been awful ever since Finn assaulted her. Loud noises and large groups of people make it so much worse. Frankly, he was surprised she even wanted to go to a party. It seemed like the last place Clarke Griffin would be.

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

“I mean it’s only been a few weeks since…” Bellamy stopped talking when he saw the confusion flash across Wells’ face. He didn’t know. Clarke didn’t tell him. Bellamy took another swig of his beer so he could take a second to gather his thoughts. Wells was her best friend. Why wouldn’t she tell him?

Before Bellamy could say anything else, he heard Clarke’s voice. “You’re really here.” She was almost skipping up to him, wearing a short purple dress and a huge smile. She looked beautiful and happy, which froze him right where he stood because he was only used to her looking one of those things.

“Yeah. Dropped O off at Niylah’s so I could see what the fuss was about,” he shrugged, trying not to seem like he rushed over here so he could check on Clarke.

After a beat, her smile faded a little. Her brows were knitted tight, like she was studying him. Then, she took a tiny step towards him, still not breaking eye contact.

“You alright?” Drunkenness aside, she seemed off. Like something was bothering her. When he glanced over at Wells for an explanation, he had taken off.

“Uh huh,” she replied, still furrowing her brows as she stared at him. She opened her mouth and then slammed it shut… before opening it again and blurting out, “Can I hug you?”

A relieved laugh escaped the back of his throat as he extended his arm. Her arms wrapped around him and she buried her face into his shirt. He pulled her in and let himself relax. Clarke was okay. She just wanted a hug.

A warmth expanded throughout his chest as he held her against him. Bellamy wasn’t sure if he had ever hugged her. That couldn’t be right, but he doesn’t remember for the life of him when he would have.

When he pulled away, Clarke was smiling… so he couldn’t help but smile back at her. Her smile was contagious.

“So, you gonna show me around this mansion?”

Clarke grabbed his hand and began tugging him through the room. And maybe the buzz of the alcohol was starting to hit him, or maybe he was just caught off guard by the way her hand fit in his… but he felt warm all over as she pulled him into the kitchen.

“This is a kitchen. I burned a cake in here once,” Clarke told him. Wells and that guy from earlier were by the counter when they came in.

“See? I tried to warn you,” he heard Wells tell his friend before he looked over at Clarke. “Hey, have you had any water lately?” he called out to her.

“Nope,” Clarke replied cheerily, trying to pull Bellamy out the other door.

Bellamy dug his heels into the ground, stopping her. “Clarke, I think you should have some water,” Bellamy said. There was a small pout on her lips as she turned around, but she didn’t argue. She just sat down at the kitchen island, holding her hand out as Wells handed her a glass of water. He was telling her something, but Bellamy was too busy looking over at his friend to catch it. The cliché frat guy was watching Clarke with an odd expression on his face, almost like he was checking her out… but not quite. Without meaning to, Bellamy moved toward Clarke, resting his hand on her back. He looked up at Bellamy, narrowing his eyes before pushing off the counter and making his way out of the kitchen.

When he looked back over at Wells and Clarke, she wasn’t paying any attention. But Wells was arching an eyebrow at him. Caught, Bellamy took a step back, taking his hand off her. He wasn’t sure what just came over him. He knew how it looked, but Bellamy wasn’t even thinking. His mind was kind of scrambled, not sure what to make of that guy, but he knew something was off. And he went into protective mode. It was Clarke, after all. He couldn’t help but look after her.

“No, you really are,” he heard Clarke say, and when he looked down, he saw that Clarke was clutching at Wells’ hands. “You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” Wells chuckled.

“No, I mean it!” she pouted. “My bestestest friend.”

“That’s rude of you to say in front of your other best friend,” Wells snorted. Clarke whipped her head around to look up at Bellamy.

“Don’t be mad.” And how could he be when she had such an adorable pout on her lips?

“It’s okay,” Bellamy chuckled, and Clarke let go of Wells’ hand to grab his.

“Wells may be my best friend but you’re my best…” She furrowed her eyebrows, and Wells was covering his mouth to contain his laughter. “Bellamy. Yeah, you’re my best Bellamy.”

“I’m your only Bellamy,” he snorted.

“Exactly,” she huffed before pushing herself off the stool. She stumbled a little, and Bellamy held her by the waist as she got her balance again. Her hand reached over to touch Wells’ face. “Best friend,” she told him. Then, she cupped Bellamy’s cheek, and any laughter he had bubbling up in his chest was quickly extinguished and replaced by a small flutter. “Best Bellamy,” she told him, sticking her chin up confidently. “Okay, best friend. I gotta finish giving the grand tour to best Bellamy.” Her hand left his cheek, and his heart sank for just a moment before she grabbed his hand instead.

His beer had been abandoned after a few sips, though he almost felt drunk as Clarke marched him through the house. Maybe it was because Clarke was so giddy when drunk that it rubbed off on him, but he found himself chuckling along whenever Clarke giggled and stumbling over himself trying to keep up with her. He was barely paying attention to the rooms she dragged him into, not able to focus on any specific thing she said about them. What he did pay attention to was her, the way she laughed at her own bad jokes and swayed so much that he often had to put his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. And instead of jerking away, she just leaned into it, sometimes grinning a little brighter when she leaned against him.

Climbing up the stairs was a challenge, but he kind of loved that it gave him another excuse to touch her. Halfway up the steps, she swayed into him. He caught her, of course. And she just tilted her head up with that blissed out smile on her lips, her eyes a little glazed over but still so soft, and he just wanted the clock to stop for a few moments. To just stay like this with her. She was so happy. Not a problem in sight, not anxious about Finn or scared because of what he did to her. Bellamy would give anything for her to feel this carefree all the time.

“Are you okay?” she asked him when they reached the top.

“Of course.” She grabbed his hand again and pulled him down the hallway. The noise was considerably quieter up here. Only a soft buzzing of the music down below and an occasional scream could be heard up here. The partygoers hadn’t strayed upstairs as far as he could tell, which was a relief. Bellamy used to go to parties like this all the time, but now, it felt like a little much. He’d rather be in the quiet with Clarke. “So, you’ve been having fun tonight?”

“The most fun,” she sighed before pushing open a door. The room seemed to be a bonus room, complete with a huge television and pool table. The carpet was so crisp white that Bellamy kicked off his shoes before stepping inside. “I had vodka for the first time.” That explains how she got so drunk. “Roan made me try it.”

“Who is Roan?” Clarke furrowed her brows as she fell back onto the brown leather sofa. “Is he that guy Wells was talking to?”

“Yeah,” she sighed before biting down on her bottom lip. Bellamy sat down beside her, and for the first time since he got here, she seemed upset.

“Clarke,” he whispered, and her bright blue eyes jumped up to meet his. “Is something wrong?”

“No… yes. I don’t know,” she stuttered out. She turned onto her side so her cheek rested against the couch cushion. Her eyes drifted down to her lap where her hands were wringing themselves. “I think I did something bad. Or not bad, but like stupid.”

“Okay.” His chest felt tight, but he forced himself to look calm for Clarke. He turned on his side too, facing her.

“I kissed Roan.”

His jaw clenched and he could feel his chest bubbling up with something dark and hot, just like when he spotted Roan checking out Clarke in the kitchen. “Okay,” he choked out. Thank God Clarke wasn’t looking up at him right now. He wasn’t sure how his face looked, but it couldn’t be much better than how his stomach was twisting in response to the image of some random frat guy at a party kissing her.

Bellamy had always known that eventually, Clarke would move on from Finn. He just thought he had more time. That he’d get to be the guy she was closest too for a bit longer before another boyfriend came into the picture.

… and then there was that secret part of him that deluded himself into thinking she would want to move on with _him_. Late at night when they whispered secrets over the phone, it didn’t seem like that far off an idea. She was who he was closest to, the only person besides his mother and sister who really understood him. And he hoped that maybe she got the same flutter in her chest that he did whenever he saw her number light up on his phone screen.

He had no claim on Clarke, of course. She was his friend, and he’d be perfectly happy if that’s all she’d ever be. It’s not like Bellamy would even know how to be anything more to her. He always managed to fuck that up in the past, especially with Gina. His crush on Clarke had been shoved into the back of his mind, never given much thought. This was probably the first time Bellamy really let himself think about it, though he had known of it on some level for a while now.

And hearing that she kissed someone else reminded him why he shoved it so far back into his mind. Deep down, he knew this was a possibility and he’d have his heart broken.

“I just… I didn’t like that my last kiss was, you know, that one,” she whispered. Bellamy blinked a few times at her, slowly realizing what she was referring to. All the irrational jealousy dissipated and was replaced with an overwhelming urge to hug her. “And I’ve never kissed anyone else before. For some reason, I thought that kissing him would help erase the last one. Like I could just force myself to get over it.”

“Clarke.” Her eyes finally looked up to meet his, looking a little lost. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I thought I wanted to be kissed again, but maybe I just want somebody to hold me,” she slurred. His chest ached at the sadness in her voice. “I like being held, but I don’t have anyone who will just like hold me or whatever.” He had to bite down hard on his tongue not to offer. “Finn didn’t even really do it. It was kinda nice when Roan did but then I started thinking about…”

Bellamy furrowed his brows as she drifted off, but she never came back to finish that thought. She just ducked her head and sighed.

“Sorry. It’s stupid,” she mumbled. There was no way she would confess all of this if she weren’t drunk. Clarke didn’t really talk about stuff like this unless he pushed her on it, probably because she didn’t like saying anything that might make anyone worry about her. Or feel bad for her. Clarke would rather silently scream indefinitely than draw attention to her pain, something Bellamy understood a little too well.

“It’s not stupid.” She finally looked up at him, blinking those bright eyes at him. “I mean, it’s okay if you miss that stuff. I get it. Sometimes I miss it too.” Though Bellamy couldn’t remember the last time he just held someone. Maybe Roma, if they even bothered to spoon after hooking up, but he doubted that. More likely with Gina years ago.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“With who? Roma?”

Bellamy blinked a few times. “How do you know about Roma?”

“Murphy mentioned her. So, was she your girlfriend?”

He had forgotten all about Murphy’s teasing that day. With what happened with Finn, the entire day leading up to finding her on the stage was kind of a blur. But now he distinctly remembers kicking Murphy in the shins as hard as he could as soon as he mentioned Roma in front of Clarke.

“No. Just some girl I used to hook up with.” And as soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have said it. Clarke’s eyes went wide.

“Hooked up as in had sex with?” she asked, and he threw his head back.

“Yes,” he groaned. Roma was the last thing he wanted to talk to Clarke about.

“But she wasn’t your girlfriend.” She had that look on her face that he jokingly called her “Nancy Drew” look. She called it her cross-x face, whatever that meant. He only knew that it was this was the face she made when she was about to interrogate someone, which meant he needed to put a stop to it.

“Hey, we don’t talk about your sex life, so don’t interrogate me about mine.”

“We don’t talk about mine because I’ve never had sex,” she retorted, and he ducked his head before she caught the surprised look in his eyes. He had always assumed that she and Finn had sex at some point. They were together for years. Most couples in their school at that point have done it unless there was a purity ring involved… which was the case for couples like Monty and Harper. “So, she wasn’t your girlfriend, but you slept with her?”

“You don’t have to be dating someone to have sex, Clarke.” God, he could feel his face turning bright red. “Okay, I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Clarke—”

“I just wanna know. You know all my secrets but I feel like I don’t know any of yours. You’re my best friend. I should know more.”

When Bellamy tilted his head up, he saw that Clarke had scooted closer. Her cheek still rested on the couch cushion, and her eyes were watching him sleepily. “Fine,” he sighed. Odds were that she wouldn’t even remember this conversation in the morning. “What do you want to know?”

“When did this happen?”

“First time, about a year and a half ago.” Right after Gina got with her boyfriend. “Again a few months later. She keeps inviting me to parties, but I think that’s just so she could try to hook up with me again.”

“Was she your first?”

“Second. Gina was my first.”

“Was Gina your girlfriend?” What was with Clarke and her new fixation on him having a girlfriend?

“No. I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘why not?’”

“Just that it’s weird. You’d be a good boyfriend.” Her saying that made him blush, like it was something more than just words spilling off a drunk girl’s lips. But he believed she meant them anyway. Just like Clarke believed every compliment she gave to him, no matter how silly or sappy. When she got sleepy but didn’t want to go to bed yet, she would just ramble off anything she thought. Once, she went on and on about what a big heart Bellamy has, and even though it was sappy nonsense, it still filled his chest with warmth long after she fell asleep.

“Probably not. I’m not good at that kind of stuff.” He watched a girl he really liked start dating someone else instead of admitting how he felt. And it’s hard for him to be that upset about it because Gina found a really great guy, someone who was way better for her than he ever could have been.

“I think you’d be.”

“Alright, now I have a question for you.” Clarke scooted even closer, her head falling just a breath away from his shoulder as she settled against the couch. “How come you and Finn never slept together?”

“Obviously, I’m saving myself for marriage.” Bellamy believed her for a moment. Then, a quiet cackle escaped from her throat, and he felt like an idiot for falling for her joke. “No, we were going to on prom night.”

“Cliché.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she sighed. “Honestly, I just pushed it out because I wanted a few more months to lose some weight before he saw me totally naked for the first time.”

This wasn’t the first time Clarke had brought up her weight, especially in the context of her relationship with Finn, so it probably shouldn’t have surprised him. But fuck, it caught him off guard every time. He always assumed that girls like Clarke just had to be aware that they were gorgeous. And for the most part, the pretty girls he has known were aware. But not Clarke. No, Clarke constantly pointed out flaws that were invisible to him. And he could only assume that she learned to do that from Finn.

On one hand, he’s really relieved that she never slept with that asshole. But on the other, he hated that the only reason she hadn’t is because he had manipulated her into thinking there was something wrong with her body just because she was a little curvier than the other girls in their school.

“You know you’re beautiful, right?”

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and a small blush formed on her cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.” She rolled her eyes. “Clarke, I’m serious.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

“No, you’re drunk.” She started giggling again, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I am drunk,” Clarke admitted. “But don’t tell anybody.” He bit down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He was pretty sure the entire party knew Clarke was drunk. He could tell by the way she skipped up to him when she first saw him. “Pinky swear,” she insisted, holding up her pinky.

“Okay,” he conceded, taking her pinky with his. “Are we going back downstairs at any point or are we just gonna hang out up here?”

She furrowed her brows as she looked over at the door. “Can we just stay here? I’d rather just be with you.” She had to stop saying shit like that or else he would surely explode.

“Yeah.” Her smile was soft, sleepy even, but no less warm. It was nice getting to see her like this. It was how he imagined her when he talked to her on the phone. Just relaxed and happy, like nothing else in the world mattered.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” she whispered, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“Me too.”

Clarke’s gaze dropped down until she was looking at her hands again. “I want to ask you something, but you can say no, okay?”

“Okay. Ask away.” She bit down on her bottom lip and studied him for a long moment. The longer she stared at him, the more nervous he got. “Clarke?”

“Could you hold me?”

His breath caught. Clarke was looking up at him with nervous eyes, like she just asked him to jump off a bridge not do the very thing he had been itching to do since Clarke mentioned that she missed being held. And he just froze, staring at her in disbelief.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, probably a little too eagerly. Bellamy threw his arm over the back of the couch. “It’s okay. Come here.”

Her eyes blinked up at his, narrowing slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure.” And like he would ever deny Clarke a thing. He could count on one hand the number of times she’s asked him for something, and that’s including the hug she nervously asked for when he arrived tonight.

Clarke scooted until her knee bumped against his, sending a shock throughout his body. Her eyes watched him as she leaned toward him, as if she were waiting for him to change his mind.

“It’s okay,” he told her again, and she finally rested her head on his shoulder.

Bellamy was slow as he moved his arm, and right as he was about to touch her, she jumped and said, “No, wait.” He froze, waiting for her to jerk away. But she instead swung, albeit clumsily, her legs over his lap, turning her body toward him. “Sorry, that was uncomfortable,” she mumbled as she rested her head against his chest, and he let out a sigh of relief. “This is better.”

Bellamy kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. Clarke adjusted against him, and he finally got to the holding her part. One hand rested on her lower back while the other stayed on her shoulder blade.

He stayed perfectly still for the first few minutes. His entire body was buzzing, too overstimulated for him to think straight. The floral smell of her shampoo overwhelmed his nose. Her soft breathing was fanning out onto his throat. She kept making these contented little sighs that made him want to pull her closer. And Clarke was just so warm against him. He could close his eyes and her warmth would lull him fast asleep.

Her fingers were playing with the drawstring of his hoodie, mindlessly wrapping it around her index finger. “You smell good,” she murmured into the collar of his shirt, and he could feel her soft lips just barely graze his neck right at the end there.

“Yeah, well. I shower sometimes,” he joked badly, but she still giggled anyway. The hand on her back could feel that soft giggle echo throughout her. It felt more real than when he only heard the sound. “You ever heard of soap?” he joked again, just so he could feel her laugh one more time. And it was even better the second time because she buried her face into his neck to muffle the sound, and he could feel it on his skin.

Even after he fell silent, Clarke didn’t pull away. She breathed into his neck, a little jagged but strong. Without meaning to, his hand found its way to her hair. It wasn’t until she sighed against his throat that he realized he had been combing his fingers through her fallen curls.

“Feels nice,” she mumbled, and her lips grazed his skin again. His throat grew dry. Bellamy slammed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. It didn’t help that every breath he took made the smell of her shampoo invade his nostrils… not that he was really complaining.

No, he was savoring it. Letting his head rest on top of hers, continuing to play with her hair so he could hear her happy hums, holding her close enough so he could feel every word, giggle, and exhale. Disentangling himself from Clarke would be a near impossible feat, and though he tried not to, Bellamy found himself just waiting for the horrible moment where they had to break apart.

“Tell me something,” she whispered.

“I’ll probably get grounded for letting O go over to Niylah’s,” he sighed, but he’d do it again. This was so worth it.

“I know I said I wanted you here, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble.” He could hear the small pout in her voice, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“Eh, it was worth it.” He didn’t look down at her, but he swore he could feel her lips twitching upwards. “Your turn.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m drunk and I’ll say something I shouldn’t tell you.”

“You keeping secrets from me, Griffin?” he snorted.

“Yeah.”

If Bellamy were a better person, he’d listen to the voice in his head telling him to drop it. But he can’t help himself. “Tell me.”

“I thought about this earlier.”

“Earlier?”

“When Roan was… you know. I was thinking about you.” His stomach clenched at just the mention of his name. He had no right to be jealous, but it still took over anyway. His mind was too filled with the image of Clarke kissing that guy that it took him a moment to realize what Clarke was trying to say.

Clarke Griffin just drunkenly admitted that she thought about Bellamy while kissing another guy.

“Your turn,” she mumbled before he could press any further, which was probably for the best. He shouldn’t have pushed in the first place, and he wasn’t sure she would even remember any of this in the morning.

But that confession had his cheeks burning and his heart stuttering.

“Bell.” Her lips burned so hot against his skin as she spoke his name, and she didn’t even realize what she was doing. “Your turn.”

He pulled her a little tighter against him, the happy sigh escaping her lips now holding a little more weight than before. “Sorry, I was thinking,” he stuttered out, and Clarke just hummed in response, oblivious to him freaking out. Part of him wished he were drunk too. Then, he could just spill out confessions as easily as Clarke, but sober, he isn’t sure what exactly he could confess. That he thinks about her all the time? That finding out she kissed Roan made him want to rip his heart out of his chest? Or maybe the fact that sometimes he can’t sleep at night and goes back to all the different times he could have tried to be Clarke’s friend before this year, and then hates himself for blowing her off because if he hadn’t been such a stubborn idiot, he could have had whatever this was so much sooner? He wouldn’t have felt so horribly alone in this world. And maybe she wouldn’t have either. They could have had each other sooner, and that thought ate away at him.

But he didn’t say that to her. No, he settled on saying, “I’ve thought about this too.” Clarke didn’t respond, which made his stomach clench in a panic even though she had just admitted the same thing. “Clarke?”

“Hmm?” She propped her head up to look at him, rubbing her eye sleepily.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” Normally, Clarke would argue with him. Insist she wants to stay up and talk to him. But this time, she dropped her head back onto his chest and squirmed a little closer to him.

He watched her for a few minutes, still in awe that after weeks of fearing touch, she was able to relax against him so easily. Comfortably, even. Like they had done this a thousand times before. When he ran his fingers through her curls again, a faint hum came from the back of her throat. She was still awake, but barely.

When she did fall asleep, Bellamy let his cheek rest on top of her head. He could faintly hear the music downstairs, though it seemed like the party was starting to wrap up. Bellamy made no move to leave. His mom was already home by now but probably too tired to check to see if Bellamy was in his bed. He just had to sneak back in before she got up. So, he just sat there with Clarke, letting himself doze in and out of consciousness until the bonus room door opened.

“Well, isn’t this adorable,” Wells snorted, and Bellamy jerked his eyes open.

“Don’t start.” Clarke stirred a little as he disentangled from her, but she didn’t open her eyes. Just curled up on the couch as soon as Bellamy slid out from under her. “You taking her home?”

“In the morning, yeah. Her mom knows she’s staying over here, so don’t worry. Are you good to drive home?”

“Yeah. Only had a few sips of beer when I first came in.” Wells crossed his arms as Bellamy stood up. “What?”

“You’re not gonna hurt her, right?” His eyes drifted over to Clarke before looking back at Bellamy.

“No. Never.”

Wells gave him a once over, sizing him up. “Kay. Text me when you get home so I know you got there okay.” As soon as Wells turned around, a smile tugged at his lips. That’s exactly the kind of thing Clarke makes Bellamy do.

Bellamy let himself look at Clarke again. She was sleeping peacefully on the couch, her lips parted as a small snore escaped. He looked around the room for a blanket, but he couldn’t locate one. So, before he left, he draped his hoodie over her.

“Goodnight, Clarke,” he told her, just like he always did after she fell asleep on the phone. But like everything else tonight, the words felt heavier than usual.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hangover™

“It’s ten!” Wells shouted, and Clarke buried her face further into the couch cushion. This was the third time he tried to wake her up this morning, and each time she got a headache.

“Don’t care,” she grumbled.

“The sooner you get up, the sooner I can drive you home and you can sleep this off in a real bed.” The door slammed behind him, and Clarke slowly pushed herself up. She was never drinking ever again. Everything was too bright, too loud, too much. All she wanted was to sleep all day on this couch, but Wells had a point. At least at home she could say she was studying and be left alone all day to sleep.

When she pushed herself to her feet, something fell to the floor with a quiet thump. It was Bellamy’s jacket from last night. Clarke tugged her phone out of her bra and started texting him, only wincing slightly as she focused on the bright screen.

_You forgot your jacket here last night._

Bellamy being here felt like a dream. A beautiful, drunken dream. It all felt kind of blurry, but she remembered having a really good time. Hell, her cheeks ached enough this morning to tell her that she was probably smiling like an idiot all night.

 _Didn’t forget it. Thought you might get cold_.

Thank God Wells wasn’t in the room to see the way her entire face lit up at his text. It was just so… Bellamy. Always worried about her, always trying to take care of her even when he’s not there. Just holding his jacket made her feel warm all over, giddy just like she remembered feeling last night when he first showed up.

She felt a little silly as she put on his jacket, especially since she had to roll up the sleeves and it was longer than her dress. Clarke told herself she was only wearing it so that she didn’t forget it, but that was a lie. She was wearing it because it smelled like him. Smelled of his soap or whatever it is he uses that smells so good, a little bit of laundry detergent, and that tree air freshener that hangs off the rearview mirror of his mom’s old truck. And Clarke, having the hopeless crush that she does, couldn’t help but duck her head into it as she descended the stairs, stealing a few sniffs while Wells couldn’t catch her.

In the living room, Wells was nowhere in sight… but that guy she kissed last night was. He was wearing one of Wells’ t-shirts and some sweatpants, silently picking up abandoned red solo cups. “Well, look who finally woke up,” he snorted.

Clarke froze, struggling to remember his name. It started with an “R” she was pretty sure. Fuck, how did she manage to forget the name of the guy she kissed last night? She wasn’t that drunk. “I was tired,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting down his neck. He had a hickey. Wait, did that mean Clarke gave him a hickey? She definitely doesn’t remember that. “Is that a hickey?” she blurted out, and he started chuckling.

“You don’t remember?” No, there was no way she gave him a hickey. Clarke distinctly remembered saying she had to pee before anything else happened, and then Bellamy showed up. There was no way she’d give him a hickey when she could have been hanging out with Bellamy instead. Though, she did feel herself touching her own neck, feeling for any sign of a hickey on her own neck. “I’m just messing with you. All we did is kiss.”

“I knew that.” His smirk grew.

“Sure you did. Don’t worry. I wasn’t gonna try anything after finding out about your boyfriend.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Bellamy isn’t my boyfriend.” He dropped the trash bag and erupted into laughter. “We’re just friends, Roan.” Right. His name was Roan. Clarke knew she hadn’t forgotten.

“You’re wearing his jacket right now,” he snorted. Before Clarke could argue, Wells strolled back into the room.

“Can you drive me home?” she groaned. She had just about all the Roan time she could handle for one morning. It was bad enough that he was still here, but apparently it took him all of five seconds to find someone else at the party last night.

“Is that your boyfriend’s jacket?” Wells asked with a small grin, and Clarke threw herself back onto the couch with a loud huff.

“That’s what I said!”

“You know Bellamy isn’t my boyfriend,” she whined.

“No, he totally is.” Before Clarke could argue, Wells shoved his phone into her hands. “Took this before I woke him up last night.” And there the two of them were, snuggled up on the couch Clarke just woke up on. She had her legs thrown over her lap, her face buried in his neck. Bellamy was fast asleep too, his head resting on top of hers while his arms were wrapped around her. “Want me to send this to you?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, handing the phone back. But the image was still burned in her mind, making her chest flutter like it did last night. She vaguely remembers asking Bellamy if he would hold her, and him actually doing it. It was a little blurry, but she definitely remembered that part. Just like she remembered leaning on him a lot and using any excuse she could think of to hold his hand.

But seeing it mitigated the embarrassment that should be taking over upon realizing just how needy and clingy she had been with him. Because it looked so… normal. Domestic. Couple-y. Like he really was her boyfriend instead of her best friend that she may or may not have a terrifying crush on.

As soon as the picture was sent, she made it the background of her Blackberry.

“Alright, you ready?” Wells asked, keys now in hand.

“Yeah.” She waved goodbye to Roan, who just smirked at her as she made her way to the door. Outside, it was cold. She found herself zipping Bellamy’s hoodie all the way up, burying her face into it to stay warm. Wells had this shit eating grin on his lips as they strolled up to his car. “Stop,” she begged.

“I didn’t say anything.” With a groan, Clarke hopped into his car and slammed the door behind her. Once he was in the car, he asked, “Why aren’t you guys dating, anyway?”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Bullshit. Next excuse.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Look, he’s just my friend, okay? That’s all he’s ever gonna be. And I probably shouldn’t date anyone, anyways.”

“Because of Finn? Homecoming was mo—”

“Something happened,” Clarke blurted out. Wells took his hand off the gear shifter and looked over at her, eyes wide. “It wasn’t bad,” she stuttered. “Okay, it was. But I’m fine now.” Fuck, why did she have to blurt this out to Wells of all people? She had one friend who didn’t look at her like some fragile little thing, and now he’s looking at her with sad, concerned eyes and it’s breaking her heart.

“What happened?”

Clarke took a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the Jaha’s garage door in front of her. “Finn…  assaulted me.” Didn’t matter how many times she practiced saying it, it still felt off. “At school. Bellamy found me after. That’s why he’s always so worried about me.”

“Are you… did he… fuck, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say right now.”

“Welcome to my life,” she snorted. “Look, everything is fine now. Finn stays away from me, and I’m okay. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“But that’s why Bellamy is just my friend. I’m… complicated. Honestly, even if he did like me back, he probably wouldn’t do anything about it. I’m too much of a mess to make a good girlfriend. He’d just be taking care of me all the time, and nobody wants that.” As much fun as it was to pretend she was normal last night, it was still just pretend. One night of letting herself forget everything else. And Bellamy was… well, likely just humoring a drunk girl who needed to feel like someone loved her. It was nice but probably not real.

“Clarke, he doesn’t—”

“Stop, you don’t have to make me feel better. I’ve accepted it, okay?”

Wells bit down on his lip and put the car in reverse, finally backing out of the driveway. “You didn’t see him last night. He was straight up acting all territorial and jealous when Roan was looking in your direction.”

Clarke pressed her lips together, thinking that over. She had no idea what he was talking about. She didn’t even remember seeing Roan after that kiss. But she vaguely remembered telling Bellamy about the kiss… but he didn’t seem jealous then. Or maybe she wasn’t paying attention. Hell, she forgot Roan’s name despite having her tongue in his mouth less than twelve hours ago. She couldn’t trust her own remembrance of last night…

… but that didn’t mean she could trust Wells’s either. He wasn’t exactly unbiased. He could be seeing what he wants to see, or just saying what he thinks Clarke wants to hear. And it’s what she wants to hear, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it. Her stomach did a little flip when Wells said Bellamy acted jealous. But maybe he was just protective. After all, Clarke was really drunk. And after everything with Finn, it was more likely that Bellamy was concerned for her safety than jealous of Roan.

“My head hurts too much for this,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Sorry. I mean, I’m sorry about everything. But like, you should absolutely know that your other best friend is at least a little bit in love with you.”

“Alright. No more talking about Bellamy,” she snapped. The last thing she needed was his help in getting her hopes up.

 

* * *

 

After a nice, hot shower, Clarke threw Bellamy’s hoodie back on and crawled into her bed. Her mom was too busy cleaning to notice Clarke was hungover, but Marcus definitely gave her a look that said he knew. But that would be future Clarke’s problem, the Clarke that wasn’t nursing a hangover and trying to make sense of the Bellamy situation.

She napped off and on for a few hours, occasionally waking up to the sound of their neighbor’s leaf blower or her mom’s car leaving the driveway. When she woke up for real, the sun had begun to set. She pulled her phone off her charger, forgetting that she had set that photo of her and Bellamy sleeping as her background.

Clarke stared at it for a few minutes, pressing the center button every time the screen went dark. It was so weird seeing herself in Bellamy’s arms. She had thought about it, more than she probably should have, but it never seemed like a real thing that could happen. Certainly not after Finn attacked her and Clarke couldn’t stand the idea of someone touching her. But right there in that photo, she was letting someone actually hold her, and she looked so relaxed and content. Felt safe enough to fall asleep right there.

Before her brain caught up with her, Clarke sent the photo to Bellamy. She should have put a funny caption with it or teased him even. Anything to lessen the weight of the photo. Or to assure him that Clarke thought it’s funny and totally wasn’t just staring at it while wearing his hoodie and thinking about how nice it would be if he were here and holding her again.

Within seconds, Bellamy was calling her.

“Hey,” she said, and her voice sounded too high.

“I’m assuming Wells took that photo,” he said.

“Yeah. He sent it to me this morning.” There was an awkward pause. “That was okay, right? Me falling asleep on you like that?”

He laughed. “Yeah, that was okay.”

“What is so funny?”

“Just that you kept asking me if it was okay last night too.”

“Oh.” Figures drunk Clarke would be just as paranoid that she was crossing a line.

“So, how’s your hangover?”

“I feel like I’m dying,” she groaned, earning a chuckle from him. A smile tugged at her lips as she curled up on her side.

“No more vodka for you, huh?” he teased, still laughing.

“Nope. Did you get in trouble?”

“Not at all. Mom overslept this morning, so I picked up Octavia from Niylah’s before she got up.”

“Sneaky.”

“Hey, if she caught me, the first thing she’d do is take away my phone.” Clarke’s stomach dropped. The idea of going even one night without talking to him sounded awful. “Did what I had to do so that I could call you to tease you about how drunk you got last night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” she huffed.

“No, you weren’t,” he chuckled. “Let’s see… you called me your best Bellamy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Not sure. But it was to make me feel better because you called Wells your bestestest friend.” Clarke buried her face into the hoodie. She vaguely remembered that. “You kept almost falling.”

“Sounds about right.”

“At some point you made out with a frat guy.” Her face turned bright pink. She remembered telling him, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew… but she didn’t think he would actually bring it up. “I think his name was Roan.”

“It was. Is. Whatever,” she stuttered out. “Yeah, he was still at the house when I left this morning. Had a hickey on his neck.” Bellamy went silent. Nervous, Clarke kept talking. “Not that I did that. I just like kissed him. So, I guess he’s just the kind of guy who found someone else five minutes later.” It bothered her, actually. It shouldn’t. She barely remembered his name this morning and probably won’t see him again. But he moved on so quickly. For him, it was just a drunken kiss. But for Clarke, it was only the second person she had ever kissed, the first time she got up the courage to kiss someone else after everything Finn did to her.

“Or he’s the kind of guy who isn’t gonna wait around for a girl who dragged another guy upstairs just ten minutes after kissing him,” Bellamy replied, his voice sounding a little off.

“Right.” She knew how it looked. Hell, she knew how _she_ looked. Right now, she was completely sober, yet she could feel her entire body buzzing because she’s talking to Bellamy. Who knows how hopelessly in love she looked last night when Bellamy was actually there. “And apparently, he thought you were my boyfriend.”

Clarke slammed her eyes shut when Bellamy didn’t reply right away. Why did she say that? She wasn’t drunk anymore. There was no excuse for her word vomit now.

“Also,” he finally said, and she let out a sigh of relief, “you interrogated me about my sex life.”

“I did not!”

“Did too,” he chuckled.

“I remember asking about Roma. That’s not an interrogation. Trust me, I know how to interrogate people.”

“Oh, I am aware… because you interrogated me last night,” he laughed, and Clarke pushed herself to sit up on her bed. Across the room, she caught her annoyed yet amused expression in the mirror. For a second, she didn’t look like the hungover mess she was.

“Did I interrogate you or did it just feel like an interrogation because you had something to hide?”

“Don’t pull that debate witchcraft on me, Griffin,” he huffed, and Clarke had to bury her face in a pillow to muffle her giggling.

“Alright, did I say or do anything else I should know about?” she laughed.

He was quiet for a moment, probably thinking over the night. She took this opportunity to push herself out of bed and head toward her desk. Despite being on break, finals were just two weeks away. So, she had a mountain of work to get done before class tomorrow.

“Don’t think so,” he finally said. “I mean, you already know about the cuddling because of the photo.” A blush took over her cheeks just thinking about that photo.

“Yeah.” She was scared to say much else on the subject. She’d probably blurt out something she shouldn’t, so she just kept her mouth shut.

When she flipped open her Calculus book, Bellamy started speaking again. “So, um, would you maybe want to go see a movie on Friday?” Clarke nearly dropped her phone. “If you’re busy, that’s fine. I just… I don’t have anything to do Friday and thought we could maybe hang out.”

“Is there a movie you really wanna see?” she asked, still trying to make sense of this. They never hung out, with the exception of last night and during school hours. She wasn’t complaining… but it just seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Uh, yeah. There’s um…” Clarke furrowed her brows as Bellamy went silent. He was acting off. She wasn’t going to complain, not when it meant seeing Bellamy more. “Okay, I have no idea what’s playing right now.”

“Alright, we got all week to figure out what we want to see.”

“So, you want to?”

“Is that not what I just said?” she snorted. But after a beat, she realized she had to figure out how to get to the movie theater. Having her mom drop her off at school is one thing, but this was the kind of thing she should probably drive herself for. Clarke looked out the window at her dad’s car, the one she hasn’t driven in seven months. It was probably time for her to try it again. And it’s not like she’d be driving it from school. Finn wouldn’t be following her. But just thinking about getting in that car made his red jeep flash in her mind.

“You want me to pick you up on the way?” he asked, and Clarke let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah. That’d be great.” Her heart was still pounding, but she could feel the stress slowly leave her body. She didn’t have to get back in that car just yet. Bellamy really was her guardian angel. “So, um, have you started Calc?”

“Nope, but I’ll get it out right now.” She doodled in the margins of her notebook as she listened to him get the book out of his backpack and dig a pencil out. “Alright, got it.”

She put her phone on speaker and the two of them fell into their usual silence. Occasionally, they compared answers or Bellamy grumbled about how annoyed he was about getting this much homework over their Thanksgiving break. But for the most part, it was their comfortable working quiet, the part of the day she looked forward to the most.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it a date? Nobody is sure, least of all Bellamy.

“I just don’t get Adam Sandler movies. Mr. Deeds was okay, but let’s be real: I watched it for Winona Ryder,” Clarke said while trying to cut the steak on her plate. Today was a big touring day at Arkadian, meaning the kitchen was serving steak and grilled vegetables instead of its usual mystery tacos to impress prospective students and their parents. Too bad they didn’t think to give anyone steak knives, though Bellamy did enjoy watching a determined Clarke Griffin stab away at a well-done steak.

“Well, I’m not gonna go see that new Twilight movie.” Though he probably would if Clarke wanted to go. He didn’t really care about the movie they saw. That wasn’t the point. He just wanted to be with her for a bit, kind of like last weekend, except where Clarke is sober and would remember if she admitted that she thought about Bellamy while kissing another guy.

His sister was calling it a date. And he waited a little too long to correct her, so the teasing had been relentless. It wasn’t a date… but it felt like it was. Or could be. But maybe he had just looked at that picture Wells took too many times. Bellamy had no idea what to make of Saturday night. He was pretty sure that Clarke wanted to be more than friends, but that was based almost entirely on what drunk Clarke said and did.

When he asked her, he was about as nervous as he would be if he were asking her on a date. Even now, his leg was bouncing under the table and he had been fidgeting all day. He just wanted to fast forward to picking her up tonight. Asking her at the beginning of the week was a mistake, leaving him to spend five agonizing days going back and forth on whether or not this was a date… when in reality, he’d probably only know once they were actually on the date or not date. Clarke didn’t seem to remember being all over him on Saturday or her drunk confession, nor has she acted any differently towards him since he asked her. She was acting like this was just a normal friend hang out despite them never doing anything like this before, so that probably meant that’s what it was.

… or maybe Bellamy has no clue what to be looking for because he’s never actually asked a girl on a date before.

“What if I told you it’s the only movie I want to go see?” Clarke asked, putting down her knife to bat her eyelashes at him.

“I’d say bullshit.” After a beat, she cracked a smile. “But I bet you had a Twilight phase.” Hell, even Octavia and her friends started reading the books. Bellamy already knew he was gonna have to take her to see it, though he hoped that Niylah’s parents would take one for the team and take her and O to see it. “Were you team Edward or team Jacob?”

“Honestly? Team Jacob but then I got really fucking tired of his whining. By the end, I was rooting for everyone to get killed off.” Bellamy started choking on his water. When he looked up, Clarke had this cute little smirk on her lips.

“You two settle on a movie yet?” Murphy asked, dropping his second tray of the day onto the table. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t remember telling Murphy about the movie, but he could have slipped up and talked to Clarke about it in front of him.

“Bellamy really wants to go see Twilight,” Clarke deadpanned, and Bellamy shot her a glare that only lasted until she started smiling again.

Clarke was different this week. Happier. And it was probably because she had such a good time on Saturday. But he hadn’t expected her to stay so happy and carefree. Yeah, she tensed up whenever Finn was nearby, but for the most part, she was just as bubbly and happy as she was at the party, just sober now.

He wondered if this was what she was like before Finn. Carefree, happy, not always waiting for something to go wrong. He sort of remembered her being like that freshman year, but much shier.

“I really think we should go see the new Happy Feet movie,” Murphy chimed in.

“Oh my God, this is why we don’t ask you… wait, did you say ‘we?’”

“Yeah. Figured Emori and I could tag along so I could prove to her I have friends.”

“You don’t have friends,” Bellamy pointed out, and Murphy kicked him under the table. Bellamy stared at him, hoping the guy who was constantly telling Bellamy to ask Clarke out could read between the damn lines.

“We’re not going to see Happy Feet 2,” Clarke told Murphy, and he did a mock pout.

“So, we’re just gonna roll past the part where Murphy just invited himself to join us?” Bellamy huffed.

“What about going downtown? They have a showing of Silence of the Lambs,” Murphy said to Clarke, completely ignoring Bellamy.

“No, cannibals freak me out,” Clarke snapped.

“Or Murphy and Emori can go see it, and Clarke and I can go see literally anything else,” Bellamy said, directed at Murphy, who seemed completely oblivious.  

Clarke scanned the cafeteria quickly before pulling her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket. Bellamy took this opportunity to properly glare at Murphy. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to come?” Murphy whispered, cocking his head to the side. Bellamy just stared back at him, waiting until he got it. Murphy’s eyes drifted over to Clarke before coming back to Bellamy. “Oh—”

Bellamy kicked him in the shins before he said anything else.

“What about that New Year’s Eve movie? The trailer looked really good,” Clarke said, not looking up from her phone. “It’s not sold out on Fandango yet.”

“That works for me,” Bellamy shrugged.

Clarke tucked her phone away and looked at Murphy expectantly, and his eyes kept darting back and forth between Bellamy and Clarke. “Uh, yeah,” he stuttered out, and Bellamy bit down on his tongue to keep from groaning. “It’s a double date.” And to make it worse, Bellamy chose that exact second to make eye contact with Clarke, whose eyes widened slightly. “Well, not like double date as in two dates, but like you two plus us two…” Bellamy didn’t even bother to kick him under the table anymore. He just focused on the mashed potatoes on his tray and prayed Clarke didn’t notice the blush creeping up his neck. “Just like, four friends hanging out at the movies, but two of them are dating and the other two are you guys… who are not.”

“Hey, Clarke?” Principal Diyoza said as she strolled up to their table, and never in his life has he been so grateful for their principal. “Whenever you’re done eating, could you stop by my office?”

“Uh, yeah. Is everything okay?” she asked, and he could feel the panic rising in her voice.

“Yes, of course. It’s not serious, I promise.” Bellamy let out an exhale at the same time Clarke did.

When he looked over at Murphy for the first time since his word vomiting, he had an apologetic look on his face. Bellamy just rolled his eyes. Of course, the first time he tries to go on a sort of date with Clarke, it accidentally gets hijacked by his oblivious best friend.

 

* * *

 

His leg bounced the whole drive to Clarke’s house. He nearly made himself late with how many shirts he threw onto the chair looking for one that was nice but not too nice. And right when Bellamy thought he found the one, Octavia made him change into a gray one he doesn’t really like. But she swore Clarke would like it better, so he gave in.

He let out a relieved sigh when he pulled into her driveway. Bellamy had expected a mansion like the Jaha’s house. It was still a nice house in a good neighborhood, but it wasn’t all that different than some of the older houses one neighborhood over from his. And he felt better when he saw that all the cars in the driveway were older, not the brand new ones he was used to seeing. His mom’s old truck, and him by extension, didn’t stand out as much here.

Bellamy shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked up the driveway, cursing himself for not bringing a jacket. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a coat yet. A hoodie would have done the trick. But Clarke kept forgetting to return the one he left behind last Saturday and all his others have Arkadian’s seal on them. And he wouldn’t be caught dead in anything issued by that school unless he was actually on campus.

Immediately after ringing the doorbell, the front door swung open to reveal an older, bearded man smiling at him. “You must be Bellamy,” he said, gesturing for him to come on inside.

“And you must be Marcus… I mean, Mr. Kane,” he stuttered. Shit, he practiced this in his head on the way over and he was already screwing it up. “You have a nice home.” Belatedly, Bellamy remembered to extend his hand out to him.

Luckily, he seemed to be a relaxed kind of guy. He took his hand with a small smile and said, “Marcus is fine. And I wish I could take the credit, but I haven’t even lived here a year. My only addition to the house is the half of the new bookshelf that hasn’t started to slant already.”

“You also put together the shed in the back!” Clarke’s mom called out from another room.

“Between you and me, I paid the neighbor’s kid to do it,” he muttered under his breath. Bellamy laughed, but it came out forced and nervous. “Hey, Clarke? Bellamy’s here!” he shouted up the stairs before nudging Bellamy toward the living room with a firm pat on the back.

The living room connected to the kitchen, where Mrs. Griffin was drying off dishes. “Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” he said as he stepped inside. It was weird being in Clarke’s house. She complained so many times about being forced into family dinners held at the very table next to him or the middle school photos her mom kept framed, highlighting her embarrassing braces days… but on the phone, it was all so abstract. Just this world Clarke lived in that Bellamy never could see. Except, he’s sort of in it now. He can see all the photos on the walls and in the bookshelves. He can see the kitchen island she bumps into when she sneaks downstairs in the middle of the night while they’re still on the phone. He can see the only home she’s ever known, not just imagine it.

“Hey, Bellamy. Do you want something to drink?” Before he could say anything, Abby Griffin was already rushing to her refrigerator. “We’ve got some water, uh, milk…”

“I’m good, but thank you.” He could hear Clarke’s footsteps above him, quickly making their way toward the staircase.

“Hey, Clarke? It’s cold out tonight so make sure to take your coat,” her mom called out as Clarke’s feet scampered down the steps.

“I’m wearing a jacket. I’ll be fine,” Clarke groaned. Bellamy took a step back so he could see her as soon as she turned the corner. She was wearing jeans… which shouldn’t have shocked him, but he had never actually seen her in jeans. Or out of uniform other than last week. He was so used to that blue plaid skirt and perfectly ironed button down that it threw him off to see her so casual. “Hi,” she said with a small smile, pausing her movements for half a second.

“Hi.” She looked pretty… not that she didn’t normally. She always did. But he could tell she put in more effort than she did for school. Her hair isn’t thrown up in a messy bun or ponytail, but down and wavy. She was wearing makeup, more than she wore at school today. Whatever it is she did, it made her blue eyes seem even brighter.

“I heard there is a ten percent chance of snow tonight,” her mother called out as she walked toward the back of the kitchen into a small alcove.

“It’s forty degrees.” Clarke started marching toward her mom, and Bellamy caught Marcus stifling a laugh. “I don’t need a coat.”

Abby turned around with a black coat in hand. “Take it anyway.” Before Clarke could even argue, she shoved the coat into her arms. “Alright, you two go have fun.” Clarke still looked annoyed, but she forced a smile.

On their way out the door, Clarke grabbed his jacket off the railing of the staircase and handed it to him. “I almost forgot.”

“Again,” he snorted, and Clarke ducked her head. “Seriously, how do you forget for five days in a row?”

“Same way you forgot to say thank you,” she said as she swung open the front door.

“Thank you… for getting this back to me after five long days.” Clarke bumped her shoulder into him with a smirk, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “So, aren’t you gonna put on your coat? It’s really cold outside,” he teased, and this time she playfully shoved his shoulder.

“I hate you,” she chuckled as she opened the passenger door. Shit, he meant to open the door for her. Yet another thing he kept going over in his head on the way over that he fumbled on.

“No, you don’t.” Clarke already had her seatbelt on by the time he shut his door and got the truck started. “I’m your best Bellamy, remember?”

“You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Bellamy shook his head, not even trying to hide his smile as he backed out of her driveway. “So, have you met Murphy’s girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“How? He’s like your best friend.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never hung out with him outside of school.” Although now that he said it aloud, that didn’t sound right. They’ve been stuck together at Arkadian for three and a half years now. There had to be at least one time they hung out. But he couldn’t think of a single time they did.

“You’re kidding.” Clarke turned her head like she was looking out the back window. Bellamy’s eyes jerked up to the rearview, trying to spot whatever it was she saw, but there was nothing behind them.

“I mean, I don’t hang out with anybody. I go to school and I go home. That’s kind of all I do.”

“You talk on the phone with me.”

“That’s because I like you,” he said without thinking. It took two beats of awkward silence for him to realize how that might have sounded. He glanced over at Clarke, but it was too dark out for him to get a read on her. “You know, more than Murphy.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” He needed to say something else, anything else. But no words came out.

“So, when was the last time you went to the movies with friends?”

“I took Octavia—”

“Your sister doesn’t count.”

He was about to argue, but Clarke was checking over her shoulder again. “Is there someone behind me?”

“No, sorry.”

When he pulled into the theater parking lot, he spotted Murphy and a girl he assumed is Emori walking hand in hand toward the theater. “Huh. For once in his life, he isn’t late,” he snorted, earning a small giggle from Clarke.

“Maybe his girlfriend is a good influence.” Bellamy doubted that. Murphy had told him story after story of the two of them getting into trouble, getting escorted home after being out past curfew, and an incident where Emori decked some guy under the bleachers at a football game. The only way in which Emori was a good influence on Murphy was that for once in his life, he wasn’t getting into trouble all on his own.

“Maybe.”

Bellamy threw on his hoodie as soon as he got out of the truck. It smelled a little different… more like Clarke now. Maybe she washed it before giving it back to him and now it smelled like her detergent.

When she made her way around the truck to meet him, she was shivering. “Maybe you want to put on that coat?” he smirked, cocking his head toward the truck.

“It’s a short walk,” she muttered, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “And I’m not giving my mom the satisfaction.”

Inside, he spotted Murphy and Emori standing just outside the bathrooms, his hand in her back pocket as he whispered something in her ear. In trying to look away from their PDA, his eyes landed on Clarke, who seemed to have witnessed the same thing.

“They’re cute,” Clarke said, but it sounded more like a question. Cute wasn’t the word he’d use to describe them. No, it’s more like the two of them were five minutes away from tearing each other’s clothes off and locking themselves in the family bathroom.

“Yeah. Cute.”

It took a few minutes for Murphy and Emori to notice they had arrived, enough time for Bellamy to get the tickets and for Clarke to get the popcorn. It was hard not to feel awkward as they approached, hands swinging and couple-y, while Bellamy and Clarke kept a good foot of distance and every time she smiled at him he felt his throat grow dry. Gone was the smooth “I don’t date” Bellamy Blake who, without trying, managed to get not one but two girls to try and date him, and in was the Bellamy Blake who spent the better part of the week trying to figure out how to hold Clarke’s hand tonight without being awkward about it.

Emori looked about the same as she did in the few pictures he had seen on Murphy’s computer. She had a nose ring now and wore a little more makeup.

“Babe, this is Bellamy and Clarke. Guys, this is Emori.” Bellamy felt so self-conscious as Emori’s eyes darted between the two of them with a smirk. Lord only knows what Murphy has told her about them.

“Hi. John’s told me a lot about you guys,” she replied, and then Murphy leaned in to whisper something that made her giggle.

Bellamy pressed his lips together and ducked his head. When he looked out of the corner of his eye at Clarke, she looked just as uncomfortable as him. How did Bellamy’s attempt at taking Clarke on a date result in the two of them being third and fourth wheels for Murphy and his girlfriend?

“Should we go find the theater?” Bellamy asked, turning his head to look at Clarke.

“Uh, it’s too early,” she muttered, looking at the screen above the ticket stub guy. When he looked up, he saw the bright red _Remain in lobby_ next to their showtime, and he let out a groan.

“Great.” He looked around the lobby, looking for any empty benches, but there were none. The theater was swamped tonight, no doubt because high school football season was over and there wasn’t anything else to do on a Friday night. “So, Emori, how is…” Bellamy furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what he could ask her about. But to be honest, Murphy never really gave him much information about her other than her being his girlfriend and an occasional anecdote about her getting into fights at school. “How did you two meet?”

“I stole his wallet,” she said. Bellamy started to laugh, but then he realized she wasn’t kidding. He looked over at Clarke in disbelief, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was looking all around the theater lobby, seeming out of it.

“Uh, what?” Bellamy stuttered out.

“She stole my wallet, found nothing but a punch card for Smoothie King, and felt bad enough to bring it back to me,” Murphy explained. Emori jumped in to correct him, but Bellamy’s focus was back on Clarke as they argued over what exactly happened.

He took a risk and reached out for her, just resting his hand on her arm. “You okay?” he whispered, and her eyes jerked up to meet his.

“Yeah, um, sorry,” she muttered. She blinked a few times before looking back over at Murphy and Emori. “So, wait. You really stole his wallet?”

“Yep. And now we’re in love,” Emori said, beaming at Murphy before leaning in for a kiss. Bellamy rolled his eyes. This was getting old real fast, and the movie hadn’t even started yet.

“Oh, we can go in now,” Clarke announced before pulling Bellamy by the arm toward the line.

“Thank you. I couldn’t take another second of that,” he whispered.

“Twenty bucks says they’ll be making out the entire movie.” Bellamy threw his head back with a groan.

Once they were all in the theater, Bellamy led Clarke up the steps and snagged four seats in the dead center. He ended up between Murphy and Clarke, which wasn’t a problem until the trailers started and Murphy began making out with Emori.

Bellamy rested his head on his hand and turned to look at Clarke, obscuring Murphy’s make out session from his view. “I’m going to kill him,” he whispered, and Clarke sunk down into her seat with a giggle.

“We could just ditch them,” she shrugged. That would be a dick move… but so was Murphy inviting himself onto this date, making it definitely not a date, and then spending the whole time making out with his girlfriend. Clarke gestured her head to the very back row that was completely empty, and before he had time to tell Murphy he was ditching him, Clarke was pulling him by the hand.

His fingers interlaced with hers as they snuck up the steps, his heart pounding at the contact. She let go when they took their seats, but she gave him a mischievous grin like they just got away with something. “Think he’ll be mad?”

“He probably won’t notice until the end of the movie,” Bellamy whispered, leaning close so she could hear him.

Clarke looked over at their old seats, where Murphy and Emori were still going at it, before looking back up at him, her blue eyes piercing even in the dark. “They are kind of cute, though.” Bellamy rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair. They weren’t cute. They were nauseating. “You can tell they really love each other,” she murmured.

There was something so wistful and sweet in her voice, something that made him wish he could just put his arm around her and pull her close. After a beat, she ducked her head, and he swore he caught a shy blush on her cheeks.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed her hand. But then, his thoughts caught up with him and he panicked that it was a step too far. When he tried to let go, Clarke interlaced her fingers with his, holding on tight enough to keep him from letting go.

He relaxed his hand back into hers, pulling his arm in so she had enough room on the armrest too. Clarke’s eyes were fixed on the screen, but every now and then, she’d sneak a glance in his direction. Those were the moments where he felt like his heart might beat itself out of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever gone to the movies for a group hang only to be a third wheel and has to sit next to two people making out while you shovel popcorn into your mouth


	11. Chapter 11

Clarke was only vaguely aware of what was going on in the movie. It wasn’t as good as she thought it was going to be, but that’s on her. Ashton Kutcher always left her disappointed, so she should have expected this. But she can’t blame him entirely for her inability to focus.

To start off, Clarke just couldn’t relax. In Bellamy’s truck, she kept looking for Finn’s car behind them. In the lobby, there were so many people and she couldn’t stop worrying that Finn might be one of them. And even now, in a dark theater, her eyes kept scanning the crowd to look for Finn’s mop of brown hair. Hell, she jumped at the opportunity to ditch Murphy and Emori, but it was more so Clarke could snag a seat in the very back, that way she didn’t have to worry about being snuck up on from behind.

Then, there’s Bellamy. His hand was still firmly holding onto hers, a constant reminder that he’s there. All night, Clarke had been confused. Bellamy was jittery back at the house, nervous even. He seemed to be stumbling over his words, which he never does. On the phone, Bellamy was always calm, cool, and collected, a sharp contrast to Clarke’s anxious rambling. But not tonight.

It wasn’t until the “that’s because I like you” where his cheeks turned red and he waited just beat too long to clarify that he meant more than Murphy that Clarke realized why his nervousness felt so familiar. It felt like they were on a date.  And once she realized that, she couldn’t stop seeing it. She went back and forth trying to rationalize that she was just seeing what she wanted to see, and she was almost convinced of that… then Bellamy grabbed her hand. And kept holding it throughout the whole movie, even if it meant jerking his other arm uncomfortably to get a handful of popcorn from between their seats.

But oddly, that wasn’t her biggest distraction from the movie. No, the biggest distraction was Murphy and Emori, who, despite her better judgement, Clarke kept watching. Seeing them together had been awkward and uncomfortable. Like dangling a donut in front of someone on a diet. Their PDA was obnoxious, and Clarke was just waiting for them to ditch the movie all together so they could go fuck in the parking lot or something. But as nauseating as they were, she couldn’t look away. They just looked so in love. Like they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Both of them were so happy to just be here together, all smiles and giggles. Giddy, even.

Clarke never had that. Not with Finn. Looking back, all the warning signs were clear as day. She would get so anxious that she’d make herself sick before dates. Finn would be all smiles and giggles, but all along, Clarke was watching him, studying him, making sure that she mirrored his behaviors. Somehow at fourteen, she knew she was in the calm before the storm.

She loved him, of that much she’s sure. If she didn’t, why would she have endured all that? And they had moments, beautiful moments, the kind Clarke rushed home to write down every detail of so she wouldn’t forget a thing about it. Their first I love you’s were on their first Valentine’s Day, and she’d practiced saying it beforehand, nervous the he wouldn’t say it back, and then it just slipped off Clarke’s lips when Finn caught her after she tripped on the sidewalk. Turns out, he did the same thing. Sometimes, they’d stay up too late on the phone, and Finn would tell her that he already knows how he’s going to propose one day, and she’d try and guess and never get it right.

Clarke remembered being so obnoxiously happy in those moments, like how Murphy and Emori seem to be around each other… except, Clarke can tell that those two are always like that. Whereas with Finn it was only in tiny, contained bursts. She loved him. And he loved her, on some level. But as she watched Murphy and Emori whisper to each other in the dark with soft smiles, it finally clicked that how she and Finn loved each other wasn’t the way she wanted it to be. Clarke wanted something softer, something warmer.

Her eyes flickered up to Bellamy… the guy who stays on the phone long after she falls asleep. Who found her on that stage and didn’t want to leave her side. Whose hoodie Clarke slept in every night for the past week. Who she thought of while kissing Roan. Who she’s always thinking of, if she was being honest with herself.

Clarke held her breath and leaned her head on his shoulder. She stayed very still as his muscle twitched beneath her cheek and Bellamy sucked in a sharp breath. But then, he gripped her hand a little tighter and rested his head on top of hers, and she buried her smile into his sleeve before he saw it.

 

* * *

 

“You guys ditched us,” Murphy groaned. Bellamy and Clarke exchanged an exasperated look. They went back to their one foot of distance in the lobby, but the stammering of her heart remained.

“You two were just making out the whole time,” Clarke replied, and it was kind of cute how both Murphy and Emori blushed.

“We’ll see you Monday. Emori, keep him out of trouble,” Bellamy said. Then, his hand found the small of her back and started nudging her toward the doors. Clarke almost missed Emori’s “Like anyone could” with how overwhelmed she was by the warmth of his hand. She nearly ran into the glass door.

“Oh my God. I can’t take you anywhere,” Bellamy snorted, letting go of her to push open the door. She waited for him to do it again, or even grab her hand, but he didn’t. He just walked next to her, keeping that one foot of distance.

Out in the parking lot, Bellamy beat her to the truck. She was confused when he walked to the passenger side, but then he opened the door for her, and Clarke’s reaction was probably a mix of confused and lovestruck. She couldn’t remember the last time someone opened a car door for her. Maybe the valet when her mom took her to the ballet four years ago.

Clarke gave in and put on the coat her mom forced onto her. It was cold enough that Bellamy cursed under his breath when he got into the driver’s seat. “Maybe your mom was right about snow.”

“Please don’t say that in front of her.”

“Agreeing with her would make her like me.”

“She already likes you.” She and Marcus had been ecstatic when Clarke told them Bellamy was taking her to the movies. Her mom has not so casually asked about Bellamy on a daily basis ever since the day Finn assaulted Clarke. The fact that Bellamy stayed with Clarke while Abby was fighting the administration earned him brownie points for decades.

One of his mirrors flashed with lights. She made it three whole seconds before checking behind them, annoyed with herself the second she turned around. It’s a habit she can’t break, one that’s driving her mom insane.

“It’s a minivan,” Bellamy told her. “So, it’s not Finn.” Clarke snapped back into her seat. Of course, Bellamy knew what she was doing. “That’s what you’re checking for, right?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”

“I get it.”

“Logically, I know I’m being paranoid. But what if the one time I don’t check, it actually is him, you know?”

Bellamy pressed his lips together, keeping his eyes on the road. When they hit a red light, he finally looked over at her. “What if it was him? What would you do?”

“What?”

“If you were driving right now and it turns out he was following you, what’s your plan?”

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. She didn’t have a plan. Her plan was prevention, making sure that there was always someone else in the car, like her mom or Wells. They would know what to do when Clarke inevitably froze up.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t drive home. You don’t pull over.” Now he’s using that voice he uses on Octavia, and Clarke can’t help but roll her eyes. “You drive to either the police station or the fire department. Probably the fire department since it’s right by your house.”

“How do you know to do that?”

“My mom.” Something odd flashed across his features and then blinked away as soon as the light turned green. “I know it’s not something that’ll get fixed overnight, but maybe if you had that as a back up plan if everything went wrong, you wouldn’t be as anxious about it. I don’t know. I like making plans for the stuff I’m scared of. Then, even if I have nightmares about it, I can talk myself through how to get through it.”

It made sense. Usually, the idea of driving sends her into a panic attack because her mind jumps straight to seeing Finn’s red jeep in her rearview mirror. The memory alone was enough to paralyze her. But Bellamy just answered the what if that Clarke had been too scared to in all these months. She could just drive to the fire department and get help. It was so simple. Why did it take this long for her to get there?

They made small talk the rest of the way to her house, mostly about school. He missed her street so they had to circle her entire neighborhood again. Bellamy walked her to the door. Well, she got out of the car, got halfway to the door, and then Bellamy frantically remembered to walk her to the door, leading to him running halfway up the walkway to catch up with her.

Once they got to her porch, Clarke froze. This was when Finn would’ve kissed her, but Bellamy was standing three feet away with his hands shoved into his pockets and wearing an expression Clarke could only describe as unsure. It was probably for the best. Clarke wasn’t sure she was ready to be kissed again.

“Thanks for, um, tonight. It was fun.” She wanted to kick herself as soon as she was done talking. There must have been something smoother she could have stuttered out.

“Yeah, it was fun. So, I guess I’ll see you Monday?”

“And you’ll call me when you get home?” Clarke asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, but neither of them moved. After a five second staring contest, Clarke finally opened her front door. When she looked over her shoulder, Bellamy gave her this awkward little wave that she mirrored immediately. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she fell back against it, burying her face in her hands. She couldn’t tell which of them was being more awkward.

“Clarke!” she heard Marcus call out from the living room. Clarke glanced out the front window, watching Bellamy get back into his truck. “How was your, um, hang out?” Her mom whispered something that Clarke couldn’t make out, and then he whispered something back.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Clarke walked through the hallway into the living room. The two of them had their show paused and were giving each other pointed looks. “It was fine,” Clarke said.

“So, you had fun?” her mom asked.

“Uh huh…” The two of them seemed off. Had been all day, actually. “What’s going on?”

“Honestly, we’re trying to figure out if this was a date,” Marcus blurted out before her mom smacked his arm with a pillow. “What? You were going to ask eventually.”

“Not right now,” her mom groaned, but Clarke just laughed. At least she wasn’t the only one wondering if it was a date all night.

“I think it was,” Clarke replied.

“I was right!” Marcus cheered, pumping his fist a little. Her mom covered her mouth, but Clarke caught her little smile too. “So, are you two going on another date? Should we have him over for dinner?”

Clarke and her mom made eye contact and started laughing. It was kind of cute how into this Marcus was. “Don’t know. I’ll keep you updated,” she snorted. “So, Mom, do you have anything going on tomorrow?”

“No, do you need to go to the mall or something?”

Clarke bit down on her lip, thinking over what Bellamy said while driving her home. “No, uh, but I was thinking maybe I should start driving again. Could we go do some practice laps in the church parking lot like we did when I first got my permit? I’m probably really rusty.”

Her mom sat up a little straighter, a smile fighting its way onto her lips. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool. Goodnight,” Clarke replied before heading upstairs.

She changed into her sleepshirt and shorts. Clarke nearly tore her room apart looking for Bellamy’s hoodie before remembering that she gave it back to him. She only pouted a little that she couldn’t sleep in it anymore.

Clarke still had some time to kill before Bellamy called, so she found herself pulling her old journal out of her closet. She hadn’t pulled it out in nearly a year. It was just where she put the memories she wanted to hold onto, and she hadn’t had many of those lately. All the pages were full of Finn, and she couldn’t bring herself to add any more to that one. She shoved it back onto the shelf and dug an old composition notebook that she got for English last year but then didn’t actually need. She scratched out the neat “English” on the cover before flipping it open.

She plopped down onto her closet floor, something she hadn’t done in more than a year, and wrote down every detail she remembered about tonight. She described her outfit, his outfit, the hoodie she gave back to him. She put in that awkward slip when Bellamy said he liked her before adding that he meant more than Murphy. She wrote about him grabbing her hand and holding it throughout the movie. She explained how warm she felt when she rested her head on his shoulder and he rested his head on hers, how her heart skipped a beat when his hand found her back, and how she wished she wasn’t so scared because a kiss with him probably would have been perfect.

Right as she neared the end of the page, he called her. “Hey!”

“Hey, sorry that took so long. O was being all… well, O,” he snorted.

“Of course, she was. Tell me something.” Clarke looked over the page she just completed and put the date at the top. She didn’t want to forget that either.

“I think she has a boyfriend. I keep catching her on the phone giggling with someone, but then she always says it’s Niylah and shoos me out of the room… which she wouldn’t do if it was just Niylah.”

“Let me guess. You’re about to go into overprotective brother mode,” she teased.

“I never left it, Clarke.” That earned a laugh from her. “Look, I’m not going to do anything. I’m not a jerk. I would just like some more details so I don’t freak out.” She rolled her eyes and just kept looking over what she wrote. Her eyes caught on the _maybe me and him could be in love like Murphy and Emori are one day_ , and she ducked her head into her shirt to hide her blush even though no one was around to see it. “Tell me something.”

Clarke bit down on her lip, debating over what to say. “When I got inside, Marcus asked me if this was a date.”

Her heart pounded for the ten seconds it took for Bellamy to respond. “What did you say?” His pen started clicking repeatedly, a nervous habit of his that drove her nuts in class.

“That I thought it was. Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she grinned. Clarke wrote down: _Bellamy admitted on the phone that it was a date_. She didn't want to forget that part either. “Tell me something.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look another chapter of fluff and our babies moving at a glacial pace...
> 
> Also, this chapter is unofficially sponsored by Sonic.

Exam week had gone by in a sleepless blur. He can’t remember a thing from his history exam yesterday except that Clarke took his pen and replaced it with one that has a cap to keep him from clicking. Spanish was the last exam of the year and he was sick of studying.

Still, he sat by the lockers with Clarke and Murphy, cramming like the three of them had done for each of the exams so far. Murphy was more panicked than both of them, but that’s because he botched his oral exam during dead week. He kept snapping at the two of them whenever they talked about anything not AP Spanish related, so it got to the point where Bellamy and Clarke just stopped talking.

She had her feet in his lap while she flipped through flash cards, and Bellamy lazily thumbed through his notes. Occasionally, she’d catch him looking at her and this cute little blush grew on her cheeks. He’d spot her smiling and have to look away before the overwhelming urge to kiss her came barreling back.

The two of them still hadn’t talked about the fact that they went on a date. There was no question that’s what it was anymore. She said she thought it was and he agreed. But it still felt like a question was dangling between them following that night at the movie theater: now what?

To say Bellamy was out of his depth was an understatement. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He’s always been passive about this kind of thing. Gina initiated everything. She texted and called him, she made him go out with her, she told him to kiss her. Roma wasn’t all that different, though that was more like her pulling at his shirt before he realized what she wanted. But Clarke… well, it took her getting drunk to ask if she could hug him, so it’s clear he couldn’t exactly be passive like before. Besides, he’s pretty sure that’s exactly how he lost Gina. He just didn’t seem interested, and so, she moved on.

But he also knew about everything that happened between Clarke and Finn, which meant he was terrified to be too much. Or that he would do something to trigger her. Bellamy was overthinking every little thing, slowly testing boundaries by seeing how she reacted when he put his hand on her back or reached for her hand. He felt like he was constantly waiting for her to jerk away, yet she never did.

“I really don’t want to choke down another salad today,” Clarke whispered. Murphy’s head snapped up in annoyance, but Bellamy just shot him a glare.

“They ran out of dressing yesterday too,” he groaned. Since hardly anyone stayed on campus for lunch, the school cafeteria was putting up minimal effort. The sandwich and salad bar was the only thing open, and after two weeks of that, Bellamy would be happy if he never saw another sandwich again.

“Can we go to Sonic? It’s our last day,” she said with a little pout, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“And how are we going to get there?” As great as a Sonic cheeseburger sounded right now, he didn’t have the truck, Murphy took the bus today, and Clarke doesn’t drive.

“I don’t care. Just leave if you’re gonna keep talking,” Murphy huffed, throwing his head back so it hit the locker.

“I could drive,” Clarke whispered with a big grin. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows at her. “I drove to school today.”

“Uh, okay, yeah,” he replied, a smile creeping onto his lips. She’s driving again. When the hell did that happen? “Let’s get Sonic.”

“You two better bring me back tater tots,” Murphy muttered as Bellamy got up to his feet.

He held his hand out for Clarke, pulling her up on her feet, and the two of them made their way outside. Clarke was practically bouncing with each step, fiddling with the keys in her hand. “So, you’re driving again.”

“Yeah. After we went on that… um, when we went to the movies,” she stuttered out, “I asked my mom if we could practice out in the church parking lot. You know, that really big one across the street from my house?”

“I know the one.”

“So, we did a few laps. Then she hopped out of the car for a few. I’ve done a few little errands too. I figured I could try to drive to school since all that went okay,” she explained.

 “You just up and decided to start driving again?” That part didn’t make sense to him, not that he wasn’t thrilled this had happened. No, Clarke seemed so excited about it, proud of herself even, and that warmed something in his chest. But it’s just that Clarke overthinks and has to plan everything, especially when it’s something she’s unsure of. She always wanted to stay on the safe side, so this sudden shift was throwing him a little.

“I realized you were right.”

“Right about what?” Clarke unlocked her small Toyota and gestured for him to get in.

“That having a plan for if it goes wrong makes it less scary,” she explained while tossing her bag into the backseat. “I don’t have to freak out about Finn possibly following me if I know how to deal with it when it happens. I’ll just drive to the fire station.”

Bellamy had been pretty sure Clarke wasn’t listening when he told her that. Or that she was trying to listen but she was too overwhelmed to retain it. But she not only listened… she’s actually trying what he suggested. He helped her. He was pretty sure he’s helped her before, but it always in the being there for her kind of way. Not in the he made a suggestion and she took it and is now conquering her fear of driving kind of way.

He’s smiling when Clarke hops into the driver’s seat, and she gives him a weird look. “What?” she chuckled, and he just shook his head. He helped her. Bellamy just couldn’t get over that. She seemed so happy to be in her car again… and he helped put that smile on her face.

Clarke rolled her eyes and put the keys in the ignition. The song that started playing was one he recognized, one he heard Octavia blasting from her room far too often.

“I was right. You do like Taylor Swift,” he laughed, and Clarke switched from CD to radio.

“That was just on.”

“You were listening to Back to December on the way here. I called it.”

Clarke turned in her seat to face him, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You knew which Taylor Swift song it was after hearing five seconds of it?”

“My sister likes that song.”

“Sure,” Clarke teased as she pulled on her seatbelt. “You could just admit that it’s a good song.”

This launched them into a heated debate about music that lasted until they arrived at Sonic. Clarke seemed to like a little of everything but clung more toward things that were popular a few years ago instead of what’s on the radio now. Bellamy had what Clarke lovingly called “depressed skater boy” taste, and he spent most of the drive coming up with bands he liked to debunk that assessment.

She seemed at ease behind the wheel, save for checking the rearview mirror more than usual. Relaxed enough that she didn’t miss a beat when he made a snide remark about Paramore and giggled when she swatted his hand away from the radio.

Clarke’s happy. Despite being in the throws of a brutal exam week where she had to sit at the same table as Finn Collins every single day, Clarke Griffin is happy. Not forcing smiles and giving scripted answers when he asked how she was doing, but the kind of happy he was only used to hearing on the phone. The kind of happy she was the night of the party where she let herself relax for once. He loved it. Bellamy wasn’t sure how he survived going this long without seeing Clarke this happy, but now, he can’t imagine not being around it. All he wanted was for her to feel like this all the time. All smiles and bad laughing at her own jokes and getting excited about something as simple as going to Sonic.

Sonic was pretty empty, though he did recognize a few freshmen from Arkadian hanging out in the back. Apparently, this specific Sonic was the hang out spot after school since it’s the only fast food place close to campus, not that Bellamy’s ever come here with anyone from school before. For a second, it stung to realize this was a sort of right of passage that he had never been invited to, just like most things at that school. But he shook it off. Clarke brought him, so technically, he wasn’t missing out on it anymore.

They both put in their orders, his a cheeseburger with everything on it, fries, and a water because at least one part of his meal should be healthy and hers a grilled cheese, fries, and a cherry limeade which she insisted he has to try.  They plopped down at a table out in the sun, and the sunlight made it warm enough that they both tugged off their coats.

He took a chance and reached for her hand, and before he could even touch her, Clarke turned over her hand like she was waiting for it. Her fingers interlaced with his and she didn’t miss a beat in conversation. It was so casual and normal that Bellamy almost forgot how nervous he had been about it.

When their food got there and Clarke took the first bite of her grilled cheese, she moaned so loud one would think she hadn’t eaten real food in years.

“I think I’m in love,” she said, staring longingly at the sandwich in her hands.

“It’s bread and cheese, Clarke.”

“Also known as the loves of my life, Bell,” she giggled. She nudged her drink toward him, forcing him to finally give in and took a sip.

“Okay, not bad.” A little too sweet for his taste, but not bad.

Before they left, Clarke got Murphy an order of tater tots despite Bellamy insisting Murphy didn’t need any. They bickered about it while they waited on it, their hands not once leaving each other’s. She had a point, of course. Bellamy doubted Murphy even bothered to go to lunch and instead crammed the whole time, so this would force him to eat something. But he was still annoyed about Murphy inviting himself to their date, so as a compromise, he stole a tater tot from him.

The exam wasn’t hard so much as meticulous, so Bellamy ended up using the full three hours. Clarke was still checking over answers when Mrs. Sydney called time. They walked out together, and Bellamy assumed Clarke would say goodbye and head out to the parking lot, but she just walked with him to their usual spot by the circle.

“Aren’t you driving home?” he asked.

“Yeah, but we always sit together after school. I’ll drive home after,” she shrugged. Bellamy glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking before he grabbed her hand.

 

* * *

 

Winter break dragged on at a brutally slow pace. His plans to see Clarke over the break were sabotaged at every turn. First, it was him getting food poisoning. That night he didn’t let Clarke call him just so she wouldn’t overhear him throwing up. But he missed her and ended up calling her the very next morning anyway.

Then, Marcus surprised Clarke and her mom with a family cruise over the week of Christmas, which meant their second attempt at a second date got canceled. He couldn’t get too upset about it, though. Clarke was so excited for it, to the point that she actually squealed over the phone when she told him. The week she was gone passed slowly, and Bellamy struggled to remember what he used to do at night before he spent his evenings on the phone with Clarke. At one point, he got trapped in a Gossip Girl marathon with Octavia and Niylah… and he didn’t hate it. He should. It’s terrible. Yet, he stayed up until three a.m. watching it and now has opinions on Dan Humphrey. Eventually, Clarke’s postcards started rolling in, and before he knew it, Clarke was keeping him up all night telling him every single detail of her trip and complaining about her sun burns.

So, Bellamy was thrilled that Wells was cool with Bellamy joining his and Clarke’s New Year’s Eve tradition. There would be a few other people at the house, but mostly his dad’s friends. Nothing like the party he attended before. Clarke said they’d probably just hang out in that bonus room all night and play Just Dance until the ball dropped. It already sounded like it would be the best night of his break.

But then, his mom was offered overtime to take a shift tonight, leaving Bellamy in charge of a very sick Octavia. Clarke was upset, though she insisted she wasn’t. She kept assuring him that it was okay and she understood, but he still heard that disappointment in her voice. It matched how he felt, honestly.

Bellamy had just gotten it into his head that it was going to be a special night. He hadn’t seen her since their last exam and he just wanted to hold her a bit. And their phone calls had gotten more intense over the break. Their little “tell me something” tag game had drug out a lot of confessions. Clarke opened up about her dad, told him about how he ended up on life support and that her mom had to make the decision to pull the plug, which took years for Clarke to get over. Bellamy admitted that he has no idea who his father is. She told him about her therapy sessions and what they were working on. He gave her the whole Gina story, complete with an admission that his fear of abandonment is the reason he’s never really tried before.

And then Clarke told him she wore his hoodie every night that week after the party because it smelled like him and wearing it made her feel safe. He promised the next time he saw her that he’d let her take home his jacket so she could do that again. It was mostly selfish, of course. He loved the idea of her wearing his hoodie when she missed him.

So, it felt like they were working up to something. Maybe a kiss right at midnight. It’d be cheesy, sure. But Clarke loves cheesy. However, thanks to Octavia’s cold and his mom’s job, that wasn’t gonna happen now.

Clarke texted him throughout the night, drunkenly giving him details of her night. Wells swore she only had two glasses of champagne, but Clarke kept bragging that she snuck more when he wasn’t looking. He had a hilarious mental image of Clarke sneaking past snobby adults to sneak champagne while Wells scanned the downstairs looking for her.

Octavia was curled up on the couch beside him, her entire body littered with used Kleenex. They had the lights off, only the TV lighting up the room. It was how they spent every New Years, though usually Octavia wanted to do stuff instead of doze off all night.

She called it a night by eleven and was passed out in her bed just five minutes later. Bellamy was going to do the same when Clarke started calling him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?” he teased, and Clarke let out an annoyed huff.

“Have you and Wells been texting again?” she groaned, and already, his night was looking up.

“We’re best friends. Didn’t you hear?”

“No, you and I are best friends,” she corrected. Bellamy bit his tongue before he argued with that statement. Because, yes, they were best friends. But they were also something else, something neither of them had given a name to. “What are you doing right now?”

“I was about to get in bed.”

“No,” she whined, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Stay up with me, Bell.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be partying?”

“Everyone here is at least fifty. Wells is talking to some girl he likes. And besides, all I wanna do is talk to you.”

“Okay, I guess I can stay up,” he teased. Bellamy put her on speaker as he got changed for bed.

“So, tell me something.”

“Octavia passed the fuck out. She’s been feeling awful all night.”

“Poor thing. She’s lucky to have a big brother like you.”

His bed creaked as he crawled into it, but that’s the only sound in his entire house. “Eh. I’m okay.”

“No, Bell,” Clarke slurred, and he took her off speaker. “You are such a good big brother. I’ve never met anyone who’s as good of a big brother as you.”

“Okay,” he chuckled.

“Bell,” Clarke whined in that affectionate way that drives him a little insane. “You believe me, right? That you’re the best big brother ever?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, good. Because you are. You’re just… you’re so perfect and I don’t tell you that enough.” Clarke’s drunker than he thought, jumping right into the over affectionate kind of drunk.

“Your turn,” he laughed.

“I miss you.”

Bellamy’s eyes fell shut and a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m actually looking forward to school because then I get to see you every day again.”

“And then I’ll start clicking my pen in class and you’ll wish we were still on break,” he teased, and Clarke let out a loud groan. “What?” he chuckled.

“I’m being all sweet, but you’re being all annoying,” she giggled.

“Doesn’t that make you miss me more?”

After a beat, she whispered, “Yeah.” Bellamy settled onto his side, pulling his pillow into his chest. “I really do miss you, though.”

“I know. I miss you too.” A little too much. He didn’t remember feeling this stir crazy when he’d go weeks without seeing Gina, like he’d do anything if it meant seeing her for five minutes. Bellamy missed her when she moved on, sure. But maybe that wasn’t about Gina. Maybe it was more about him wanting a person that was his. Anyone, really. Just someone who gave him the affection that his mom was usually too tired from work to give and Octavia was too young to realize he needed.

But with Clarke, it was something more than that. A buzzing throughout his body when he knew he was about to see her. This energy flowing through him whenever she was around, the kind that made him feel invincible even though he’s far from it. That warmth that devoured his chest whenever they spoke. Her voice alone made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Bellamy’s spent most of his life being overlooked. His needs were always second to Octavia’s. His father abandoned him and never looked back. Octavia’s father didn’t want him and only put up with him because Aurora was pregnant with his kid. He spent three years at Arkadian being ignored by everyone. It’s always felt like no one really sees Bellamy.

But Clarke does. Clarke sees him and cares for him and maybe even loves him. And maybe he loves her too.

“Your turn.”

“I wish I were there.”

“That’s basically the same one I just said. That’s cheating,” she huffed.

“Cheating? Is this a game or something?” he snickered. “And besides, who says that has anything to do with you? I could want to be there for Wells, which would have nothing to do with missing you. Arrogant of you to assume that.”

“Oh, well if that’s the case I’ll go put Wells on the phone and go—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So, does that mean you wish you were here so you could be with me?” she asked, and he could picture her face perfectly. A cocky little smile but a sincere question in her eyes… like she’s pretty sure she knows the answer but just wants to be sure.

“Yeah, Clarke.” He’d do anything to see her face right now. He imagined she was blushing, maybe even ducking her head like she does when she gets embarrassed. “Your turn.”

“I don’t think I’m actually drunk this time.”

“You sure about that?” he snorted.

“I didn’t even drink that much. Every time I snuck a glass Wells grabbed it from my hands,” she whined, and he burst out laughing. “I got maybe a sip out of each of them. I’ve had two drinks. I mostly just feel all warm and stuff.”

“So, you’ll actually remember tonight in the morning?” he teased.

“I remembered that party just fine, Bellamy!” Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Your turn.”

“I wanted to kiss you at midnight.”

“Really?”

“Would that…” Bellamy took a deep breath. “Would that have been okay?”

He was met with a long silence where the only sound was his heart pounding. Bellamy probably should have thought more before blurting that out, but it was probably better this way. Better to have an awkward conversation about it than to have done it and realize after the fact that Clarke wasn’t ready for it.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice all breathy. Relief washed through him. “That would have been okay.”

“Okay.”

“Though I thought that would be too cheesy for you,” she teased, and Bellamy laughed so hard that he accidentally snorted.

“It is cheesy.”

“But you wanted to.”

“I don’t care if it’s cheesy or not. I just want to kiss you, Clarke.” There’s another long pause, and a blush creeps onto his cheeks. “Clarke?”

“I’m here. I just…” There’s something off about her voice, almost like she’s giggling but not quite. “Hold on.” He hears some footsteps and a door close, so Clarke must be switching rooms. “Do you really want to kiss me?”

“Oh my God, Clarke. What are we? Fourteen?” he chuckled. Next, he expected her to ask if he like likes her. Which he does, but Bellamy would rather let Octavia braid his hair than say that phrase aloud.

“Sometimes I feel like it. With you, I mean. It’s like I’m doing all this for the first time if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Though for Bellamy, this kind of was his first time. That fact scared the hell out of him. “And yeah, I really want to kiss you.”

He heard a small shifting over the phone like Clarke was in bed. She must have gone to the guest bedroom. “I really want to kiss you too.”

It’s ridiculous, really, the way he buries his face into his pillow and smiles so big that his cheeks hurt. This wasn’t new information per se, something he’d probably be more confident in knowing if he had seen Clarke recently. But hearing her say it made him clutch his pillow tighter and blush harder than he ever has.

“Your turn,” he choked out before she said anything else to make his heart pound.

“Will you stay up until midnight with me?”

“Aren’t you watching the ball drop with everyone else?”

“It’s been a rough year, Bell. I’d rather spend the last of it with you. And start the next one that way too.”

Just when he thought she couldn’t steal any more of his heart for the night, she goes and says something beautiful like that. “Okay. I’ll stay up,” he told her.

They kept going back and forth. They missed midnight because Clarke was too busy ranting about the bike lane situation downtown, and neither of them looked at the clock until it was five minutes after.

“Will you stay up a little longer?” she whispered, her voice sounding sleepy.

“You should probably go to sleep.”

“Just five more minutes,” she whined.

“Okay. Five more minutes.”

She didn’t make it five more minutes. Bellamy bored her to sleep by discussing the paint colors his mom was looking at for their kitchen, feigning interest in the varying shades of beige that he really couldn’t tell a difference between.

He set his phone on speaker and laid it on his chest before shutting his own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i make playlist for this fic?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if y'all got song suggestions for the playlist, hmu either here or in my inbox on tumblr

If you had told the teacher’s pet and all-around goody two shoes Clarke Griffin three years ago that she’d start off her final semester of high school in the principal’s office, she’d laugh in your face. But there are a lot of things she could have told her younger self about her new life that she wouldn’t have believed. Like that Finn Collins would stalk and assault her or that Bellamy Blake would become her closest friend and maybe boyfriend. Or that her boobs would somehow get bigger and that buying a Blackberry would turn out to be a mistake.

Diyoza had sent Clarke an email yesterday asking for her to come in early for a talk. That’s what she called these little meetings. _Talks_. It was clear she was trying to be relaxed about it, not wanting to alarm Clarke. But the word _talk_ has been used for everything from a sex talk that involved condoms, bananas, and Clarke making an awkward joke about clitoris sounding like a dinosaur name, to that time her mother informed her that her father wasn’t going to recover and that she’s decided to pull the plug. Most recently, it was how Marcus described his impromptu self defense lessons and then spent the whole hour spinning hypotheticals instead of naming the real threat to Clarke’s safety: Finn Collins. So, the word put Clarke on edge as soon as she read it.

“Do you want good news or bad news first?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

“Eh, let’s start this semester off on a good note,” Clarke shrugged. There was a hole in her tights already, and she should stop picking at it. But it’s just right there and driving her nuts.

“Finn dropped out of AB Calculus which means you no longer have that class with him. Or hardly any others, since his schedule had to be rearranged so he could take regular Calculus.” She pulled up a sheet of paper and squints at it. “Just Spanish and History now.”

Clarke relaxed into the chair. Spanish would be his only real opportunity to bother her, and he is at a disadvantage there because he isn’t fluent enough to be able to really harass her while speaking Spanish.

“Wait, how? Isn’t there a regular Calculus class during that period?” Clarke was pretty sure there was one right across the hall. She’s seen Harper in that classroom while heading to class, so it has to be Calculus.

“There is, but that class size is too large.” Clarke narrowed her eyes at Principal Diyoza, catching a small smile on her lips. There were maybe ten people in that class. “I made the call, and his schedule had to be arranged. So, that’s done.”

One day, when Clarke wasn’t a student here, she needed to thank her. Sure, Clarke’s experiences at this school haven’t been great, but who knows how much worse it could have been if Diyoza hadn’t stood up for her all these times.

“As for the bad news, it has been brought to my attention that the list of colleges you have applied to is identical to his.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped. It had always been her assumption that if Clarke could just get past her graduation that this would be over. She hadn’t even considered Finn would apply to the same schools. But why wouldn’t he? It’s all she and Finn had talked about in the last three years. Furman and Richmond were their top picks, Vanderbilt was their long shot, and they both were surprised by how much they liked Indiana. With each school, they had built a specific dream for it. Impromptu picnics on the quad at Furman, going into the city for date night at Richmond, reserving a date at Benton Chapel for right after they graduated from Vandy…

These schools were his dream as much as hers. She didn’t own them. It’d be stupid to be surprised he still applied. He wanted these schools before her, so why wouldn’t he want them now?

“My suggestion is that you get a restraining order the day after you graduate. He won’t follow you to college if you do that.”

“No,” Clarke snapped. “I’m not doing that to him.” Diyoza fell back against her chair, looking like she wants to argue but keeping her mouth shut. “I mean, I’m not doing that just to keep him out of the school he wants to go to. I’ll just apply somewhere else.”

“He is not your priority, Clarke. You are.”

“I know, but… you know, I don’t think I’ll even be able to afford to go to those schools anyway,” she stuttered out. It was true, of course. Her mom had said money was no object but that was before she saw the Furman price tag. Any academic scholarships went out the window when her grades started slipping last year. She could shoot for a debate scholarship, but none of those schools offer them.

And now that Clarke thought about it, she wasn’t sure she would want to go. Another small school where everyone knows each other… it just felt so claustrophobic. Maybe she wanted to go to a bigger school, one where she could be anonymous and where no one knew what happened with Finn. Somewhere she could start over and disappear into a crowd.

“This conversation isn’t over, but I have work to do before assembly. Can I make a suggestion?” she sighed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Lie. When you pick where you’re going, lie and say you’re going somewhere else.”

Clarke nodded as she picked her backpack off the floor. That could work. If Finn tried to follow her to college, that would send him to the wrong school. And even if he didn’t, it would at least ensure he doesn’t know where she is next year.

Bellamy was waiting against her locker, his smile fading as soon as she walked up to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” And it wasn’t technically a lie. Nothing was wrong yet. Clarke just needed a new plan. “What? Three weeks without seeing me and no hug?” she teased.

Bellamy rolled his eyes as he leaned in to hug her, and Clarke buried her smug grin into his jacket. God, she forgot how good he smelled. And the way his arm felt wrapped around her back. And just how warm he always seemed to be.

“Seriously, though. What happened?” he asked as they pulled away, his eyes flitting toward Diyoza’s office.

“Finn must have bombed his Calc exam because he’s not in the class anymore,” she shrugged. “His schedule’s been rearranged.”

“So, you don’t have any more classes with him?” he whispered, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Almost. Still got Spanish and History.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, hitting his head back on the locker. Clarke nudged him aside so she could get to it, rolling her eyes in the process. “Well, it’s still good news.”

“Yep.”

“And this also means that I only have Spanish and History with him now. So, that’s a win.”

“I’m very happy for you,” she giggled. Once she had her textbooks in her backpack, she shut the locker and found Bellamy staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing. Just missed you,” he shrugged with the cutest of smiles on his lips. She wanted to kiss him for it.

Clarke ducked her head as soon as the thought washed over her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had this thought before. She did quite often, actually. But there was always a barrier stopping her, like being on the phone or being too scared. Clarke wasn’t scared now. Nervous, sure. But not scared, not with Bellamy.

It could be so simple. Clarke could get up on her toes and kiss him right now. Nothing was stopping her anymore, not even the part of her that Finn broke.

But then the first school bell chose this moment to stop her.

“You ready?”

Clarke pushed her hair back behind her ears, trying to shake off her thoughts of kissing Bellamy. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

The first week back went by quickly. Finn didn’t so much as look in her direction, which was a huge relief. Murphy got a tattoo over the break, one Emori talked him into, but he refused to tell Bellamy or Clarke where or what it was. The school finally broke ground on a new athletic building, which in theory was cool, but it really just meant that each teacher had to shout over jackhammers at random points throughout the class.

By the time week two rolled around, the campus was focused on the Coming Home celebration. It was the one school tradition Clarke didn’t care for. It was really just a parody of Homecoming. Instead of voting on a Homecoming Queen, five senior guys competed to be Homecoming King. Last year, Clarke had to sit through each of them attempting a stand-up comedy act, and sadly, none of them were even a little bit funny. It got canceled sophomore year because on day two of this clusterfuck, one of the contestants got racist and Diyoza shut that down real quick. She remembered liking it her freshman year, but in retrospect, it probably wasn’t that good then either, just better than a normal boring assembly.

The only good thing about this was that it ended with a school dance on Saturday, though Clarke probably wouldn’t go this year. Homecoming was too fresh on the mind. And besides, she didn’t have anyone to go with. Bellamy doesn’t do these kinds of things, and there is no way in hell that Wells would come all the way back here for a Coming Home dance.

“How does it even work?” Murphy asked at lunch. Bellamy got held up in the line while they waited for the second batch of pasta to be put out.

“How does what work?”

“Coming Home. There’s a basketball game right before the dance, right?”

“Haven’t you been?” she asked, and he just shook his head. “Do you want to go?”

“Depends on how you describe it. So, explain this weird ritual.”

Clarke snorted while taking a sip of her water, causing it to go down the wrong way. Murphy smirked while waiting for her to cough it off. “So, there is a basketball game. At half time, they crown the Coming Home King. It’s literally just a reverse Homecoming.”

“You say that like I’ve gone to Homecoming.”

“How have you never done any of this?” she groaned right as Bellamy sat down beside her. “Seriously. You two have been here for three and a half years. How did you avoid all of this?”

“Murphy doesn’t listen to the announcements and I just don’t care,” Bellamy snorted.

“Yeah, yeah,” Murphy huffed. “So, the dance happens right after the game? And what exactly happens at the dance?”

“Pretty much right after. I don’t know. There’s a DJ, usually a bad one, who plays the Top 40 and any popular line dance. Two slow songs tops so people don’t get too close while dancing. If you do get too close, the rulers come out.”

“Clarke and Wells had the ruler come out at Homecoming,” Bellamy added in, and she elbowed his side. “Apparently, Mrs. Sydney thought they were getting a little too handsy.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned. “I’m never telling you anything ever again.” He just laughed and continued eating.

“You lost me at line dance,” Murphy sighed. “I’m out.”

“Probably the right move,” she chuckled.

“Aren’t you guys going?”

“No,” Clarke said at the same time Bellamy said, “Yes.” There was an awkward pause before they made eye contact.

“Wait, you want to go?” she asked.

“Well, uh, I just thought that you wanted to go. So, I would go with you,” he replied, all quiet like he didn’t want Murphy to hear. But Murphy had his head propped up on his hands watching them with interest.

“So, you don’t actually want to go.”

“No. Well, I mean, I would want to go if you wanted to go,” he stuttered out before pushing his hand through his hair.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Your boyfriend likes you enough to suffer through Coming Home for you,” Murphy interjected.

Both Bellamy and Clarke opened their mouths to argue with that label, but then their eyes met again. Without a word, it was like they both decided to let that one slide for now. She doesn’t hate it. It sounded kind of nice, actually. Her _boyfriend_. But it was such a kneejerk reaction at this point to push it away that it took a conscious decision not to fight it.

She hoped that’s what went through Bellamy’s head as he snapped his mouth shut too.

“So, it’s settled. You two will get all dressed up and be each other’s dates.” Murphy cocked his head to the side, thinking something over. “I think I like playing cupid.”

“You don’t get dressed up for Coming Home. It’s a jeans kind of event,” Clarke corrected, ignoring the part where Murphy just asked Clarke to a dance for Bellamy. Well, not even asked. Told her.

“I could wear jeans? Okay, I’m interested again,” he sighed.

Clarke turned towards Bellamy. “Do you actually want to go?” she whispered.

“Normally, no. But you like these kinds of things, right?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke bit down on her bottom lip. She thought she did, but maybe it’s just another thing Finn broke for her. Or maybe she’d just outgrown it all.

The longer she goes without answering, the more the worried expression takes over Bellamy’s face. “Yeah, I do,” she said even though she wasn’t sure. But she knew that saying she didn’t want to go would make him worry more than he already does. And he’d probably assume that Clarke did want to go and just didn’t do it because of Finn.

 

* * *

 

This time when Bellamy picked her up, Clarke was waiting right by the door. With how much Marcus had been asking all week if they were dating or just going on a date, Clarke thought it’d be best to keep his interactions with Bellamy to a minimum. It was sort of sweet though. He never had kids of his own, so he gets so excited for any of Clarke’s milestones.

“Hey, you ready?” Bellamy asked with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Yep.” Clarke looked over her shoulder. “Mom, I’m leaving!” She shut the front door behind her before her mom could talk her into bringing a coat she didn’t need.

Bellamy didn’t say anything about it, but he did chuckle the whole way to his truck.

“Stop,” she whined.

“I didn’t say a word,” he snorted before pulling open her door. Clarke narrowed her eyes at him before hopping in.

The drive to the school should have been easy enough. But Clarke kept checking behind her for Finn’s car at a rate she hadn’t done in a month. She could feel herself tensing as they pulled into the parking lot, and it finally hit her that she would have a panic attack if she tried to get out of this truck. Right here in front of Bellamy. Possibly in front of others.

“Bellamy, I can’t,” she stuttered out, and he hit the brakes in the middle of the parking lot.

“What?”

“I don’t… I can’t go in there.” She slammed her eyes shut and forced herself to take a deep breath. Clarke barely thought about Homecoming anymore. It was nothing compared to the day Finn attacked her. But now, it was front and center in her mind. Bleeding Love. The way her vision got blurry as she ran. The pungent smell of bleach from the bathroom that she could somehow taste while sucking in desperate breaths. Finn. Always Finn and that pitiful look in his eyes like Clarke hurt him somehow.

Bellamy didn’t say anything else as he drove them away from the school. Clarke let her eyes fall shut and took slow, deep breaths the way Dr. Tsing taught her.

She opened her eyes when she felt the truck stop moving. They were in a different parking lot, the one in front of the strip mall that’s getting torn down next month. When she turned her head, Bellamy was turned in his seat looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“No, I know you wanted to go—”

“I definitely did not want to go,” he snorted, and Clarke sighed into the headrest. “I didn’t want you to not go just because I don’t like these kinds of things. And I figured it couldn’t be all that bad if you were there.”

Clarke unclicked her seatbelt to get more comfortable and then reached over to grab his hand. “I’m still sorry.”

“Again, don’t be. I still get to do what I wanted either way,” he grinned. Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You know, be with you.” Clarke ducked her head to hide her blush. “But really, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she promised. “I just couldn’t go in there.”

“God, we really suck at this whole second date thing.” Clarke threw her head back in a loud, unexpected laugh. She forgot this would technically be their second date. It didn’t feel like it. It felt like the hundredth.

“Wait, no. Sonic was our second date,” she giggled.

“That wasn’t a date,” he snorted.

“Why not? We had a meal, we held hands—”

“Okay, let’s say that was a date. That doesn’t exactly help our track record, now does it?” he laughed. “First date, Murphy invites himself and his girlfriend along and makes us feel like third wheels on our own date. Second date, we fought the whole time, either about music or Murphy getting tater tots—”

“I don’t think you’re technically fighting with someone if you’re also playing with their hand the whole time,” she pointed out.

“And now for our third date, we are sitting in what used to be a Big Lots parking lot, which I think is better than our original plan but still.” Clarke laughed so hard that she snorted, which made Bellamy crack up.

“Stop,” she whined, pushing his shoulder. He didn’t stop laughing, so Clarke turned up the radio to drown out his laughter. Eventually, he reached up to turn it back down before falling back against his seat.

Bellamy stared straight ahead with a lopsided smile on his lips. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Clarke.”

“What are you talking about?”

He turned to look at her. “This,” he whispered, gesturing between the two of them. “I’ve never done this. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend or even if that’s what I am or—”

“Do you want to be?”

Bellamy blinked a few times before whispering, “Yeah.”

“Okay, then you are,” she decided. But there was still this concerned look on his face, so she kept talking. “And you’re doing good. Really good. It’s not your fault that I’m so… difficult.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” she sighed. “I’m still working through stuff, and sometimes that means we can’t go to something as simple as a dumb school dance.” Even though she didn’t feel like going, it still stung that she wasn’t there. It was so stupid. She’d been to every other one of these and none of them were fun enough to make her want to go again. Clarke wasn’t missing out on anything, and Bellamy didn’t even want to go, so there was no harm done.

But it felt like Clarke failed. Failed at getting through the night. Failed at getting better. Failed at being normal again.

There was a part of Clarke that knew she wouldn’t ever be normal again. And a part of her that understood that the normal she felt like she needed to get back to wasn’t even normal. Nothing about those three years was normal. It was all Finn dangling his praise and approval to her, forcing her to reach for it. And right when she almost got it, he pulled it farther away to see how far he could push her, how much he could get her to starve herself, how much of her body she’d let him prod and grope just so that she could hear someone say they loved her.

Maybe the normal Clarke wanted was just a time where she didn’t know she was hurt. A world where she could be oblivious again. Not checking behind her for a red jeep. Not hiding her body with layers upon layers. Not scared to go to a stupid dance.

Bellamy was fiddling with the radio, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What are you doing?” she giggled.

“Boyfriend things. Roll down your window,” he murmured. She kept her eyes on him as she rolled it down, but she kept her eyes on him. He stopped on an older station, the song was slow and one she vaguely recognized. But she couldn’t name it or even the decade it was from.

Then, Bellamy swung open his door and hopped out of the truck. “Seriously, what are you doing?” she laughed as he jogged around to open her door.

“You don’t have to go to that gym to suffer through a dumb dance. We can suffer through it right here in front of Big Lots,” he smirked.

“Oh my God, you want to dance?” she laughed. “Right now?”

“Obviously. I picked the nicest abandoned parking lot in town. I couldn’t be more romantic if I tried,” he snorted, and Clarke laughed so hard that she fell into him when she got out of the truck. “See? It’s making you fall for me.”

Clarke giggled into his chest and could feel his own laughter echoing in his chest. Slowly, her arms made their way around his neck, and the two of them fell into an awkward swaying motion that was about as close to dancing as teenagers get.

“I don’t think we’re doing this right,” he snorted.

“We’re not,” she sighed, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Well, then what do we do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing,” she giggled.

“Clarke! You’re supposed to be the one who knows what they’re doing,” he groaned, and her laugh grew louder. When she snuck a look up at him, he was smiling at her. Not that cocky smirk, but his real smile.

His smile faded a bit as his eyes drifted down to her lips. Bellamy started to move toward her but then he stopped himself, and Clarke’s stomach dropped. But instead of pulling away, his dark brown eyes flickered up to meet hers.

He was waiting on her.

Her nod was small. A microscopic movement for what felt like screaming. She couldn’t hear the song anymore, just her own breathing and heart pounding as Bellamy carefully closed the distance between her.

Clarke was mid inhale when his chapped lips grazed hers. She stood frozen for a moment, like she was waiting for her broken mind to find a way to ruin this too. But it didn’t, and she exhaled against his lips.

Her eyes fell shut as she pressed her lips against his, and his surprised little hum in response sent a warmth throughout her body. Bellamy’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer into him as he kissed her back. She felt so small in his arms, but not fragile. Not around Bellamy.

The song came to an end. They stopped swaying. But they didn’t pull away. Bellamy cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her harder. Her fingers wove their way into his hair to hold him in place as she parted her lips for him. A car passing by honked at them, and Bellamy jumped a little, which made Clarke laugh. He chuckled too before leaning in to kiss her again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed the series of fluff chapters because we're heading back toward angst oops

Clarke changed her relationship status on Facebook. Bellamy was on the phone with her when he heard Octavia’s feet sprinting toward his door and barely put Clarke on mute in time for Octavia to scream about it. Apparently, that was a big deal.

But they had been more or less together starting in December, so this wasn’t news. Or at least, he thought it wasn’t. But to his sister, mother, and the entire senior class at Arkadian, it was the biggest news.

Bellamy wasn’t used to people at school paying attention to him. He had been invisible for years and only really started gaining notice when he and Clarke became friends. But that was more because it was odd and not because there was anything particularly interesting about their friendship to the outside world.

Finn ignored them, which threw Bellamy through a loop. Of all people, he’d assume that Finn would have something to say about it or would at least be trying to pass Clarke notes again. And Bellamy is thrilled that he’s not, but it’s still weird. Like a calm before the storm. Bellamy found himself watching Finn closer in Spanish and History, like if he studied him hard enough, he’d be able to predict when he’ll snap.

“You swear he hasn’t tried to call you again?” he asked.

“I swear.” Clarke tilted her head up to kiss his cheek before leaning her head back on his shoulder. His mom was running late today, and Clarke, like always, insisted on waiting with him before driving home.

Bellamy tilted her head up with his hand and kissed her on the mouth, loving that happy sigh she makes whenever he does. He can’t stop kissing her. Hasn’t been able to since their first one. Even when he drove her home that night, he was stealing kisses at red lights and stop signs. Every day, they eat lunch as quickly as possible and then go make out on the stage until the bell rings.

“Why do you keep asking?”

With a sigh, he leaned his head back on the column. “I keep feeling like he’s gonna try something now that he knows we’re together.” If Finn blew up last year because he thought Lexa was flirting with Clarke, who knows what he’d do now that Clarke had actually moved on with someone else?

“He’s… preoccupied, I think.” Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at Clarke. “According to Harper, he’s trying to get back with Raven.”

“Who?”

“The girl he was dating when he started trying to date me.” Now, he remembered. Some girl that went to the all girl’s school downtown and who Clarke had kept comparing herself to, always putting herself down for not being as smart or thin as her. As much as Bellamy would try to reassure her when she would gush about Raven, nothing he said seemed to be enough. Finn made sure that particular wound was deep.

“Does she know about what happened?”

“Not yet.”

Bellamy sat up a little straighter. “Yet?” he choked out, and Clarke pulled away to look at him. “As in, you’re planning on telling her?”

“I have to,” she snapped, and his stomach dropped.

“No,” he blurted out, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. “You can’t. You’re finally off his radar. He’s leaving you alone. If you get involved with this, who knows what he’ll do.”

“Bellamy, she needs to know what she’s getting into. I’ve been drafting what I’m gonna send her all day and—”

“Clarke, don’t.” She snapped her mouth shut and just stared at him like he was a stranger. But Bellamy knew in his bones he was right. “He could hurt you,” he explained.

“He could hurt her.”

“You need to put your safety first. Come on, you know he will snap if he finds out you told her.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Yes, I do and so do you. Otherwise, you would have told me about this right away!” Clarke’s eyes darted toward his mom’s approaching car before she pushed herself to her feet. “Clarke.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled as she pulled her backpack on.

“Clarke, I’m serious. Don’t talk to her. Just let it be,” he pleaded, grabbing her hand.

She jerked her hand away, her face full of anger that she was trying so hard to conceal. “I’ll think about it.” She left without giving him a hug or kiss, stomping off to the senior parking lot.

Bellamy didn’t say a word as he hopped into the truck, even though Octavia was already drilling him about their fight and asking if they’re breaking up. His mom was mercifully silent and turned up the radio every time Octavia started bothering him.

He stared out the window, trying to calm his stammering heart. If Clarke talked to Raven and she let just one thing Clarke said slip to Finn, he would know it was Clarke. Maybe he’d take it as proof for his delusion that Clarke is still in love with him. But more likely, he’d snap. And Clarke swore Finn had never hurt her, that he wasn’t capable of it, but that was the same thing his mom thought all those years ago.

Bellamy understood why Clarke wanted to tell Raven. But she couldn’t do this for the rest of her life. She couldn’t sacrifice herself to try to protect strangers from the abuse she got. There had to be a smarter way to go about this. Maybe getting someone else to reach out to Raven and warn her, though he wasn’t sure if Clarke was close enough to anyone else now to ask them to do that. And then again, that would put whoever she asked in danger too, and it might still get back to Finn that it was Clarke.

The drive should have calmed him down, but he was fuming by the time he got into his house.

“Kitchen table,” his mom called out before he ran up the stairs. “Octavia, go to your room.”

Bellamy gritted his teeth, dropped his backpack to the floor, and stomped to the table. Octavia sprinted up the stairs, but he didn’t hear her door shut.

“Octavia!” his mom shouted, and finally the door shut. She took her time getting to the table, looking more tired than usual. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Can I go upstairs now?” he groaned.

“I don’t want you punching another hole in my wall,” she smirked, but it was too forced. She must know it’s bad if she’s trying to force a joke.

“You know that Finn guy?” he whispered, gripping the side of the table as he spoke. “He’s trying to date someone else and Clarke wants to warn her.”

“Good for her.”

“No, not good. Bad. Very freaking bad,” he snapped. “If he finds out, he will hurt her. He’s already assaulted her once.”

“Well, it’s not your decision to make.”

“Clarke isn’t thinking straight—”

“And you think you are?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Because I’m willing to bet you just tried to control Clarke the same way that Finn guy did.”

“That’s not—” Bellamy snapped his mouth shut as soon as his mom’s words washed over him.

“It doesn’t matter how pure your intentions are if your method is manipulative.” Bellamy blinked a few times. His mom wasn’t what he would call insightful. She was normally too tired from work for the deeper conversations. She opted to watch easy sitcoms and talk about mindless things. He had no idea where she got those words from.

“Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”

“No, it was from one of the workers at that shelter we stayed at.”

His stomach clenched. He wasn’t sure which one she was talking about. One of the two before they ran for good or the one after. They all blended in together in his mind. The memories had gone blurry. Only a few remained, like his excitement when another kid offered him an Oreo or the way he broke down sobbing when he spilled his juice because he was waiting to get screamed at for it even though his mom’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, but it scared the shit out of me,” he whispered, burying his face into his hands. Later, his mom would get onto him about swearing, but for now, she let him get away with it. “I can’t let him hurt Clarke.”

His mom grabbed his hand, forcing him to look up at her. “Bellamy, I love you, but this isn’t about you,” she sighed. “Clarke needs to do this.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together and stared at the stain on the table. He knew she was right. But he hated it. He hated that Clarke had to do this, that this was even a thing she had to worry about. Hadn’t she been through enough? And would this girl even believe Clarke? No one else did until he assaulted her on campus, and even then, not everyone thought that was enough to believe her.

“There was a woman after me. She went to church with us, always brought those animal crackers to Sunday school.” He remembered the animal crackers but not her. “I didn’t tell her. I was on the run, and I had you and Octavia to think about. But I still hate myself for not warning her. So, let Clarke do what she has to do.”

Bellamy shut his eyes and nodded. After a beat, he felt his mom press a kiss to the top of his head before walking out of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Clarke normally called him. It just made sense because she was so often roped into family dinners or at therapy, meanwhile Bellamy was always sitting in his room. But usually by eight, they were on the phone.

She hadn’t called, and it was now eight thirty. She was probably still mad at him, and now that he’s had several hours to rip apart every single thing he said to her, he doesn’t blame her. Clarke was trying to do a kind, selfless thing, and he punished her for it by snapping at her. At least he didn’t yell, but still.

Five more minutes passed before he gave in and called her. She answered on the first ring.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“What? No, Clarke, I…” Bellamy threw his head back against his headboard. This whole time, she thought he was mad at her. “No, no. I’m not and I wasn’t. You should be mad at me.”

“No, I’m sorry that—”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Clarke. Please,” he begged, and that’s when he heard her first sob break. “Clarke, that was all my fault. I wasn’t listening and was scared. That’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have said… well, all of it. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Those two words were like a tiny knife to his chest. How many times has Clarke said that when it wasn’t her fault? How many times did Finn force those words from her lips? It’s what she kept saying after he assaulted her, like she thought everything was her fault.

“I can’t be mad at you, especially not when you’re going to do the right thing,” he promised.

“I already did it,” she whispered, and he clenched his eyes shut.

“And?”

“She read it immediately but hasn’t responded. I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a lot to process,” he offered, but his gut told him this was a bad sign.

“You think it was a bad idea.”

“I was just worried about your safety. It’s not a bad idea.” If she were anyone else, he’d have told her it was a great idea. But she’s Clarke. All he wanted was to wrap her up in his arms and keep her safe from harm. “It’s not. It’s a brave one.”

“God, I hate it when people throw around that word. I’m not brave. I sent a Facebook message.”

“Fine. You’re tough, then,” he told her, and Clarke snorted. “No really. You’re the last person I’d fuck with. Those debate skills mean you could roast me and I might not even realize it, not to mention anyone who stays as calm as you while dealing with all this bullshit is not to be messed with.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned.

“Plus, you got that Marcus self-defense training, so who knows what you can do?”

“I can give you a punch that hurts more emotionally than physically,” she joked, and he burst out laughing.

He could hear her tiptoe toward her bed, and he settled on his side. “Hey, Clarke?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry. My kneejerk reaction whenever I’m scared is to try and take control of the situation, and I’m gonna work on that, okay?”

“Bell, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You mean everything to me, and I can’t hurt you. I don’t wanna make you cry ever again, alright?”

There was a long silence once he was done speaking, but finally Clarke whispered, “You can make it up to me with a kiss tomorrow morning.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Just one?”

“It might take a few,” she giggled.

“Whatever the hell you want.”

“Tell me something.”

“I can’t wait to kiss you tomorrow,” he told her. A cute giggle flooded his ears, and he leaned his head back onto his pillow, smiling so big it hurt.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel weird posting this chapter just twenty-four hours after 602 premiered. I didn't know this was going to be the episode where that happened, and I swear the timing of this chapter wasn't planned that way. But anyway, mind the new tag.
> 
> I normally don't post on Wednesday nights, but I start my new job tomorrow and I don't think I'll have time to post updates on Thursdays anymore. Plus, this is a chapter I've been dying to post since I wrote it, and the idea of waiting until Friday to get it up is just agony. So, here it is.

_Raven, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but please listen to what I’m telling you. You need to stay away from Finn. He isn’t the same guy you remember from 2008._

Raven still hadn’t answered. It’s been twelve hours since Clarke sent it. Raven opened it immediately yet said nothing. Clarke kept reading over it at each red light, looking for anything she said that would explain why Raven didn’t reply.

_We broke up a year ago and he started stalking me. He’d follow me home and call me from any phone he could get his hands on. He once called me saying that he saying he was on a bridge about to jump unless I took him back, and the whole time he was just sitting in his bed. He’s manipulative. So fucking manipulative. He talked me into trying to kill myself last year._

To be fair, how does someone reply to that? If someone just randomly sent Clarke all their trauma, she wouldn’t know what to say either. In her experience, she got a lot of “I’m so sorry this happened to you” kind of responses, none of which she knows how to respond to. But she didn’t even get that from Raven. Just radio silence.

_And you need to hear all this from me, because he is going to tell you that I’m a monster and a cheating bitch but never once admit that he sexually assaulted me at school just three months ago. I’m sorry for what happened freshman year. I didn’t know about you, I swear. I wish I could take it all back, believe me. But I can’t. All I can do is warn you about him. Don’t get back together with him. I wouldn’t forgive myself if he hurt you too._

Four red lights before hitting the school, Clarke spotted Finn’s jeep in her rearview mirror. She took a deep breath. That didn’t mean anything. They were heading in the same direction, after all. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Finn might not even realize it was Clarke in front of him.

Telling herself that didn’t calm the panic rising within her. She was being paranoid. Or maybe she wasn’t and she just thought she was because Finn always told her she was being paranoid. It’s hard to know which thoughts were hers and which ones he put in her head. It’s been a year since the breakup, and his voice still sounds like hers in Clarke’s mind.

Was that voice that hated her chubby thighs Clarke’s or Finn’s? How about the one that tells her it could be quick and painless every time she puts away the kitchen knives? Or the one that tells her to keep her mouth shut whenever she wants to tell Bellamy she loves him because he won’t ever love her back? Are these things she actually thinks or is this just another way Finn broke her?

In the parking lot, Finn finally broke off. Clarke took her normal parking spot, threw her hands over her head, and forced a deep breath. It was okay. It was just a coincidence. He wasn’t following her. He went to this school too, after all.

It took her a few minutes to work up the courage to step out of her car. It was oddly warm outside. The sun was peeking through the clouds even though it was supposed to rain all morning. When she went to unlock her backseat to get her backpack, she caught a glimpse of Finn marching in her direction.

Clarke should have taken off running toward the campus. That’s how the fight or flight response was supposed to work. But instead, she dropped her keys, and by the time she picked them up, Finn had shoved her back against her car.

“I left you alone, Clarke!” he screamed at her. “And you fucking go lie to Raven?”

Six months ago, she would have cried but not said a word. But Clarke wasn’t the same person she was six months ago. Not even close.

“I didn’t lie!” she yelled back before pushing him. It wasn’t hard, not like Marcus showed her, but it was enough to break away from his hold.

Finn’s hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back. Before Clarke could catch her balance, he shoved her back into the car. Her head slammed into the door, but she didn’t fall. No, he caught her by the neck.

“You psycho bitch!” he spat, his saliva sprayed across her face as his grip tightened around her neck.

And maybe she had been hanging out with Murphy too much, because she immediately quipped, “Look who’s talking,” which earned more pressure to her windpipe and another slamming of her head into the car. There was a loud ringing noise, kind of like a car alarm but maybe she was just hearing things. She tried looking around, but the edges of her vision were dark and blurry.

“I haven’t done anything to you, and you go and ruin—”

“Shut up!” she choked out.

“—the one good thing—”

“Do you ever—” His hand pushed harder against her throat, and Clarke sucked in a shallow breath. “—ever shut up?”

There’s this look in his eyes, cold and unfeeling, nothing at all like how he looked at her before… back when he loved her. There’s nothing behind those dead eyes. Nothing to empathize with, nothing to prove there’s any humanity left there. Just anger.

He’d kill her. He wanted her dead. That’s what he wanted last year when he told her to kill herself, when he told her that there was no one left who loved her.

Maybe he just wanted her to apologize again. Apologize for not loving him enough, for trying to get away from him, for finding a way to be happy without him. Who knows what he wanted her to be sorry for? He just wanted her to be sorry.

She should have just said it. Bat her eyelashes at him and lie about how much she cares about him until his guard was down enough so that she could break out of his hold.

But Clarke Griffin isn’t sorry. Not about a damn thing.

“Do it,” she rasped. “Do it you fucking coward.” He froze. His hands stayed around her throat, still squeezing, but not adding any more pressure. “You can’t, can you?”

The challenge was met with his thumb digging into the indention below her jaw, the ticklish spot that would make Clarke giggle if Bellamy kissed her there.

“Do it,” she said again, locking eyes with him. His hands loosened. “You wanted me dead, remember? There’s no one left who loves me, right? So, fucking do it!” Every word out of her mouth burned, and the only things that weren’t blurry were his confused eyes. “Or did you finally realize that without me you’re the one that has no one that actually loves you?”

Nothing he could do would hurt her as much as the truth hurt him.

She didn’t resist when his palm slammed back into her windpipe, just let her eyes fall shut. Breathing burned. Her neck felt numb. Yet all she could think was that his hands were soft, just like she remembered them when they first held hands or when he’d rest his hand on her thigh while they hung out on the quad.

The same hands that touched her for the first time, the hands that belonged to the first person she ever loved… those were the hands wrapped around her neck.

Those were the hands that were going to kill her.

At least it would be over. No more hiding between classes. No more looking for that jeep. No more counting exits. She could just be gone.

Somewhere in the distance, Clarke heard a scream.

“Do it,” she begged before sucking in a desperate breath… the last one she might ever take. She could feel the tears burning their way down her cheeks. Her whole body felt hot yet numb. The ringing was still so damn loud. She just wanted it all to stop.

“Clarke!”

That was Murphy’s voice. The rest of the screams weren’t as clear.

“Oh my God!”

She felt the hands leave her throat.

“Clarke? Fuck, someone help me!”

She could feel two people at her side, holding her up. Maybe she fell.

“What happened?”

A loud thump was followed by a strangled groan.

“Finn was strangling her!”

Her eyes flashed open, her mind finally snapping into focus. Finn just had his hands around her throat. She almost died.

For a second there, she wanted to die. Asked for it, even.

The blue and white uniforms all flashed in front of her in a blur, and she couldn’t quite make anyone out until she locked eyes with Finn, who was now pressed up against the car across from her with two guys pinning him to it. His eyes were full of tears.

“No!” she screamed, lunging forward. Someone grabbed her, and she tried to jerk out of their grasp. “No! You don’t get to cry!” Her voice didn’t even sound like hers. It was rough and frantic, a scream too broken to be her own.

“Clarke, calm down!”

The tears burn their way down her cheeks as she fought off whoever was holding her. “No, he doesn’t get to cry now!” Each word feels like a knife inside her throat, but she can’t stop screaming. “He doesn’t get to make me feel bad for him! He isn’t the victim! He never was!”

She wanted to hurt him. To slap him, scratch him, punch him… anything to make him feel some pain too. Clarke was so tired of suffering all alone. If she had to feel like this, then so did he. He dragged her into hell with him. It was only fair.

But when she lunged toward him, she could feel herself falling to the ground. Something was wrong. She couldn’t keep her balance, she couldn’t see straight, and she could still hear that loud ringing in her ears.

Someone caught her, wrapping their arm around her stomach to keep her from plunging head first into the pavement.

“Clarke,” Murphy said in her ear, and Clarke let out a relieved breath.

“He’s crazy, not me,” she blubbered out as he tightened his grip around her waist.

“I know.”

“I’m not crazy,” she pleaded. They were the same words she kept repeating at the hospital last year, begging to go home even as she was restrained to the bed. They were the words she pleaded to Headmaster Wallace last summer when they were trying to convince him Clarke was well enough to come back to school. They were the words Clarke told every therapist who would then ask her why she felt compelled to declare that.

She felt like she had been screaming those words but no one actually heard them. Clarke wasn’t crazy. Her brain worked before. And it still works now. But somehow, and she isn’t sure how he does it, Finn gets back in there and shatters it to pieces. He leaves her mind in small scraps, full of apologies and memories that don’t make sense together.

Finn created his perfect Clarke, and Clarke wanted to kill her. Set her apologies on fire, rip her weak heart out of her chest, and smother her and all the trauma he gave her until she breathed her last breath. Bury her somewhere that no one, not even Finn, could find her.

But she can’t. That Clarke, the Clarke whose voice sounds so much like Finn’s, lived on in her mind. She started to drown in the happiness that Clarke had found with Bellamy. That Clarke had just ran out of breath and was about to suffocate… until Finn brought her back to the surface. She was breathing free now, all her dark, horrible thoughts coming back with her.

Finn’s perfect Clarke was saved, and Clarke was going to have to fight her every second of every day now, pleading to anyone who would listen that she’s not crazy. She is just trapped with that broken Clarke.

“Clarke, shh.” A hand found her face and tilted it up. Finally, she could make out Murphy. Her vision was closing in, but she could still make out his nose and eyes. Never in her life did she think she would be so happy to see John Murphy. “Hey, you’re okay.”

He stood her up again, his hands hovering on her back as she got her balance. But everything around her was moving too fast, making her dizzy.

“Clarke!” It was a distant scream, but one she recognized right away.

“Bell,” she whispered, jerking her head in his direction. But her head screeched in pain as soon as it turned, and then the dark blur in her vision grew until she couldn’t see anything. She was falling again, and then it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter that inspired this whole fic. When I got triggered last December by seeing the same make of my ex's car in my rear view mirror, this was the exact moment I came back to. It's why I had to write this story. I haven't talked about this specific day in maybe six years.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I switched to Wednesdays instead of Thursdays, I'm thinking I'll also update on Sundays instead of Mondays. Idk. I'm still trying to figure out my schedule.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the response last chapter. I get the feeling that a lot of you struggle with how to comment on this fic knowing that it's based on something real. And I get it. It's part of the reason that I almost didn't admit this was based on something real when I started it. But I just wanted to affirm for you guys that it's okay to enjoy this the same way you would enjoy any other fanfiction I write. 
> 
> It has been seven years since this happened. I read somewhere once (and I don't know if this is actually true because I don't feel like doing the research) that it takes the human body seven years to replace every cell, and I take a weird comfort in that because I now live in a body that has never been touched by him. I am better know. I understand what happened to me now. I recovered and I am okay. So, while everything that's going on in these chapters is heartbreaking, I want you all to remember that this was something that happened seven years ago and I came out okay. I don't want to make you guys concerned about me or make you worry.

Something was wrong. Clarke wasn’t at her locker. He waited for her, but she didn’t show up. He turned his phone back on and called her. It rang and rang until he was hit with her voicemail that was mostly her giggling when messed up what she was trying to say.

He powerwalked past the building outside, his walk turning into a full-on sprint when he saw a crowd of students around Clarke’s car.

“Clarke!” he yelled as loud as he could. When he got closer, he could see her body go slack before she began falling. Bellamy couldn’t get to her fast enough. But Murphy did, catching her before she slammed into the ground. “No, no, no, no,” he huffed. Bellamy helped Murphy lower her to the ground, cradling her head the entire time.

“She’s okay. She just fainted,” Murphy told him, but she was anything but okay. Bellamy patted her cheeks, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. When his gaze drifted down, he spotted her neck. The normally pale skin was littered with red marks, almost like someone tried to…

Bellamy jerked his head around to look for Finn, finding him pinned against a car by Atom and Monty. No one caught Bellamy in time to save Finn from the first punch across the face. Atom let go of Finn to hold Bellamy back when he tried swinging again, making him miss his mark and only graze his jaw.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Bellamy growled. “Let me go!”

Murphy helped yank Bellamy back, pinning him to Clarke’s car while Finn nursed his cheek. Murphy gripped Bellamy’s face, scowling at him. Bellamy tried to jerk away, but Murphy just held him in place, forcing Bellamy to look at him. His face had a red mark on it too.

“Did Finn hit you?”

“No, Clarke did on accident,” Murphy huffed, shaking his head. “Now, calm down!”

“I can’t—”

Murphy smacked his cheeks. “Clarke passed out. We’re getting help. I am barely keeping it together, so calm the fuck down!” he yelled.

“She didn’t just pass out,” he pointed out. Before Murphy could say anything, a group of coaches emerged from the athletic building and started sprinting towards them with Jackson in tow. Murphy let go of Bellamy to stand next to Jackson while he took a look at Clarke, quietly telling him what happened.

“I saw them first. I was getting off the bus, and Finn had his hands around her throat. I think she hit her head too. She was real dizzy and kept losing her balance.”

Atom gave Bellamy a warning look before letting go of him, and Bellamy held his hands up defensively. He wasn’t going to attack Finn again. Now that he had a beat to think, he knew that he shouldn’t have. Finn deserved it, but Bellamy wasn’t that kind of person. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t be like Finn or his mom’s boyfriend.

When he looked over at Finn, two coaches were pulling him away from the growing crowd. Half the school was out here now, most watching from the sidewalk.

Principal Diyoza came sprinting up to them, keys in hand. “Get Collins into Wallace’s office!” she yelled at the coaches.

“Hey,” Jackson whispered, and someone pulled Bellamy back before he could run over to her. From over Monty’s shoulder, he could see Clarke blinking up at Jackson. “How are you feeling?” Someone tugged Bellamy back, but he kept his feet firmly planted, waiting to hear her say she’s okay. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” Bellamy let out a relieved breath.

“Good, good. Can you tell me what year it is?”

“2012.”

“Who’s the president?”

“Obama, thank God,” she snorted, and Bellamy felt his entire body relax. She would be okay. Her brain was still working just fine.

“Alright, how many fingers am I holding up?” he asked, holding two up right in front of her.

“Stop moving and I’ll tell you,” she groaned, and Bellamy’s stomach dropped. Jackson wasn’t moving his hand at all.

“Students, I’m gonna need all of you to clear out,” Diyoza shouted as she weaved her way through them.

It was Murphy who ended up making Bellamy move, pushing him toward the sidewalk as he watched Clarke and the coaches from over his shoulder. They were slowly helping her to her feet and moving her toward the car that Diyoza pulled up in.

He felt so helpless as he watched Diyoza and Jackson drive off with Clarke. He should be with her. He should have been there when this happened. There had to be something he could have done.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy got halfway through his second class before getting called into the principal’s office. There, Harper, Monty, Atom and a few of the others from this morning were sitting, all looking about as horrible as he felt.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re talking to the witnesses,” Harper explained.

“And trying to figure out if someone punched Finn,” Atom said. “But none of us saw it happen.” Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him. Atom was literally holding Finn down when Bellamy punched him. When he looked around at the others, who all knew exactly what he did, they just shrugged or shook their heads.

Murphy walked out of Diyoza’s office, followed by Headmaster Wallace, who had a murderous expression on his face.

“Oh cool. Bellamy is joining in on the fun,” he snorted as he plopped down next to Monty.

“Mr. Murphy, this is a serious situation. Students were hurt today.”

“Student. Singular. Finn Collins is fine,” Murphy spat.

Wallace’s eyes met Bellamy’s, and he beckoned him into the office with a small flick of his head. Bellamy held his breath as he followed him in. “Finn said you punched him,” Wallace said as he shut the door.

“Finn also said he didn’t sexually assault Clarke last semester, so I don’t think he’s a credible source,” Bellamy snapped, plopping down on the couch.

“Are you saying that you didn’t punch Finn Collins?” he huffed. “Need I remind you that lying is an honor code violation.” Which meant everyone sitting outside would get busted with one if he told the truth, which would fuck up all their college applications. If Bellamy had any intention of coming clean, which he didn’t, that alone would have kept him from it.

“I’m saying that my girlfriend was just attacked in your school’s parking lot and instead of asking for what I witnessed about that, you’re interrogating me about something that a notorious liar and the boy that strangled her said.” Maybe Clarke’s debate nonsense was starting to rub off on him.

Before Wallace could say anything else, the door swung open and banged into a cabinet. Bellamy whipped his head around to see Marcus Kane storming in.

“Uh, if you could just give me a second—”

“My kid just got strangled on your campus. What could possibly be more important than—” He finally saw Bellamy on the couch, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just talking to the witnesses of the altercation,” Wallace said at the same time Bellamy blurted out, “He thinks I punched Finn Collins.”

“Did you?” Marcus asked, his lips turning up in a smile.

“No,” Bellamy lied.

“Mr. Griffin—”

“Mr. Kane,” he corrected.

“Right, Mr. Kane. Look, I have to do a thorough investigation whenever there is an allegation of—”

“Like you did the last time Finn attacked Clarke?” Marcus interrupted, and Bellamy sunk farther into his seat as Marcus braced his hands on the desk. “I’m sorry, but I thought the school’s policy when one student accuses another of attacking them but there are no witnesses that you give a warning and hope it doesn’t happen again. Or is that just your policy when the victim is female?”

“That’s not—”

“Or is it a race issue? Because you were fine to look the other way when the alleged attacker was a rich white boy, but it seems to me that Bellamy isn’t getting fair treatment. So, which is it? Are you sexist or racist?”

“Oh fuck,” he heard Murphy call out in the main office.

“Bellamy, could you step outside?” Wallace whispered, and Bellamy practically ran out the door. As soon as it was shut, Marcus started screaming at him.

“Do you have any idea how many different ways I could sue your ass right now?”

Bellamy ducked his head and took a seat before he heard anything else.

None of the others said a word. Occasionally, another student would walk by the office, staring at them with wide eyes. There’s no doubt that the entire school knew what happened by now.

“They got Finn in Wallace’s office,” Murphy whispered, leaning toward him. “Waiting on his mom to get here to bail him out.”

“No fucking way that’s happening again.”

“Probably not. What with that guy coming in threatening to sue and Clarke straight up snapping on Finn. The Griffin’s aren’t fucking around this time.”

“Wait, what?”

Murphy’s eyes flickered over to meet his. “I don’t know what that was. I’ve never seen her like that, I swear. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t catch her.” When Bellamy looked over at Harper and Monty, they were exchanging an odd look, like they knew exactly what Murphy was talking about. “That girl wanted to hurt him.”

Before Bellamy could ask anything else, Wallace’s door swung open. Marcus locked eyes with him and gestured with his head for Bellamy to follow as he walked out of the main office.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked as soon as they were out in the hallway.

“No, are you?”

“No. But Clarke will be. She’s looking at a concussion but nothing is broken, thank God,” he sighed before pushing back his hair. “Were you there? How did this happen?”

“I, uh, I wasn’t. I was waiting by her locker like I usually do.” It felt weird admitting that aloud to the closest thing Clarke has to a dad. “When I got there, it already happened. Murphy actually saw it.”

“Murphy?”

“Uh, the guy sitting next to me in there,” Bellamy said, gesturing with his head back at the office. “He’s our friend. Sits with us at lunch and came with us to the movies that one time.”

“Oh, Murphy. Yeah, okay.”

“So, he saw them when he got off the bus. Finn had his hands around her neck, and then Murphy and a few others came running to help and got him off her. I got there right when she passed out.” Bellamy took a deep breath before admitting, “And then I punched Finn.” He felt a little better saying it out loud.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting from Marcus, but an amused snort certainly wasn’t it. “Good.” He leaned against the wall with a sigh, and Bellamy shoved his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t sure why that reaction rubbed him the wrong way. “Do you know why this happened? I thought he was leaving her alone.”

“He was, but…” His eyes lit up with concern. “Clarke found out he was trying to get back together with his ex, and so she decided to warn her by telling her everything Finn did to her. I guess he found out.”

Marcus let out a loud exhale. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I beat Abby to the hospital but couldn’t even see Clarke until Abby got there because I’m not technically family. And then, I can’t even get your ridiculous headmaster to agree to expel Finn.”

“He’s not getting expelled for this?” Bellamy snapped, and Marcus just shrugged.

“He said they are looking into alternative solutions. Whatever the hell that means.”

Bellamy fell against the wall beside him, feeling his chest burn like it did when he found Clarke. There was no way the school could let Finn get anywhere near her after this. No. It wasn’t possible. Especially not when there were witnesses.

“If you want to stop by the house after school, I know Clarke would be happy to see you.”

“Yeah, I wanna see her too.” Tears prickled in his eyes, but he fought them off. Just thinking about Clarke lying in a hospital bed, all bruised and disoriented, it ripped his heart into two. He should have gotten to her faster. He should have known this would happen. He should have protected her.

“Okay. I got to get back,” he said, clapping his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder.

He stood there for a while, long past when the doors swung shut behind Marcus Kane. Eventually, Murphy came out and stood with him. Not saying a word, which was odd for him. But it was nice not being all alone for a few moments.

 

* * *

 

“You couldn’t have done anything,” his mom whispered while he played with the keys. “So, don’t put that on yourself.”

“But—”

“There were people who could been doing something all along, but you’re not one of them,” she said, this time firmer as she gripped his shoulders. “Understood?”

“Understood.” When she let go, Bellamy headed into the living room.

“Wait, Bell, where are you going?” Octavia asked from the couch.

“Clarke’s house.”

“On a school night?” she huffed.

But before she could whine about how unfair it was, his mom asked, “Octavia, could you come in the kitchen for a minute?” O groaned as she jumped to her feet, and Bellamy shared an uneasy look with his mom. “I need to talk to you about something that happened today.”

Bellamy slipped out the door before he heard anything else.

The drive was easy save for the rain. His phone was blowing up with texts from Murphy, Monty, and Harper asking for updates on Clarke. He turned it off when he parked in the Griffin’s driveway.

Abby opened the door before Bellamy even got to the porch. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, her eyes having dark circles beneath them. “Come on in,” she said, forcing a smile.

They didn’t say a word as she led him up the stairs. Bellamy caught a glimpse of Marcus in the downstairs office, flipping through a stack of papers.

The upstairs of their house wasn’t as clean and perfect as their downstairs. There was a hamper out in the hallway, overflowing with pieces of Clarke’s uniform. A stack of tubs blocked one of the doorways. Clarke’s door was covered with cutouts from a magazine, forming a collage. It felt more like a home up here.

“Hey, Clarke?” Abby whispered as they stepped into her room. It struck Bellamy that he had never actually been in here. It was the room where Clarke called him from. That was the bed he would hear her snoring from. It made stepping in here feel so much heavier. “Bellamy’s here.”

Clarke was lying in bed, head propped up on three pillows. She didn’t even open her eyes. She just whispered, “Yeah?” with the corners of her mouth turning up.

Abby patted Bellamy on the back before stepping out. “Hey, Clarke,” he said as he walked up to her bed. Slowly, she blinked those blue eyes open. And despite everything, he smiled… because seeing those eyes was easily the best thing that happened to him today.

“What? No kiss?” she giggled. With a chuckle, he leaned down and pressed a careful kiss to her lips. As he pulled away, his eyes drifted down to her neck where the bruises had begun forming. He jerked his gaze away as he sat down on the bed beside her. Clarke held her hand out to him, wiggling her fingers impatiently until he took it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he interlaced their fingers.

“Tired. And my head hurts.”

“And your neck?”

“Really hurts.” At least in the dark of the room Clarke couldn’t see his pained expression. “What happened after I left?”

His fingers stroked her palm as he took a deep breath. “All of us got dragged into the principal’s office. But it was Wallace, not Diyoza. He wanted to know what we all witnessed, if I punched Finn, and if there was anything they were missing. And then when Diyoza got back from the hospital, she wanted to meet with each of us too, have us talk to the counselor, and really just make sure we were okay.”

“Did you just say you punched Finn?”

Bellamy froze, and Clarke weakly squeezed his hand. Right, she wasn’t conscious for that.

“Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “Right after I found you.” He watched her face closely, looking for any sign of panic or worry. Clarke wouldn’t be happy that he hit Finn. But he was terrified that it might make her scared of him, especially after what Finn did to her today. “I shouldn’t have done it,” he added in. “I had just figured out what he did to you and I—”

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Did it hurt him?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes fell shut. “Good.” Some hair had fallen into her face, so he pushed it behind her ear. “Tell me something.”

“I was so scared, Clarke.”

“No, not that. No more talking about that for today,” she sighed.

Bellamy leaned back against her headboard and started talking about the essay he pulled out of his ass today, leaving out the real reason he couldn’t focus and playing up the humor in him forgetting the author of A Doll’s House and coming up with creative ways around that. One hand was still firmly holding onto Clarke’s. The other was mindlessly playing with the ends of her hair.

“Tell me something,” she whispered as soon as he stopped talking.

“Aren’t we supposed to take turns?” he chuckled.

“I can’t. I have that, uh, head thingy.”

“Concussion?”

“Yeah, that,” she remembered.

He launched into talking about his sister’s new interest in the Kardashians, complete with his half-formed opinions from only overhearing parts of that show and Octavia’s take on all of them.

Clarke asked him to tell her something as soon as he was done again. This time, he told her the entire plot of The Breakfast Club because she’s never seen it.

It got to the point where Clarke stopped reminding him to tell her something and he just talked and talked about anything that entered his thoughts. Anything except the one thing that was eating away at him.

Bellamy knew she was only half listening. There was only so much she could keep up with in her current state. But there was a small, closed-lip smile on her face as he spoke, like she just wanted to hear his voice. So, he kept going until he looked out the window and saw it was getting dark.

“I have to get home so my mom can take the truck to work,” he sighed, and Clarke’s eyes shot open.

“You’re leaving?” The panic in her voice ripped his heart in half.

“I’m sorry, but I have to. And you need to rest.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but as soon as he did, Clarke stuck her chin out like she always did when she wanted one on her lips. He chuckled quietly and gave her a chaste one, earning that quiet little hum that always made his heart stutter.

Bellamy hated leaving her. If he had it his way, he’d stay here all night, all week even.

“Hey, do you want to hold onto my jacket?” he asked, and the sweetest little smile formed on her lips. He tugged it off and laid it over her. Clarke immediately put her arms into the sleeves, wearing it backwards. “It’ll be just like I’m here,” he promised.

“I’ll still miss you. You’ll come back tomorrow, right?”

“I promise.” He gave her another kiss, this one slower and wetter than it should have been, but he couldn’t help himself. Ten hours ago, he had no idea if he would be able to do this again. He thought he had lost her just as soon as he found her.

Bellamy made his way down the stairs but paused at the bottom when he heard Marcus and Abby.

“They have their asses covered. I can’t come up with anything and neither can anyone else at the firm,” Marcus huffed. “Let’s just press charges.”

“You don’t understand, Marcus. Two years ago, a senior girl got raped by her boyfriend, and when she pressed charges and brought all that negative press to the school, Arkadian retaliated. All her college scholarships were rescinded without explanation. Wallace made her out to be a whore and a liar, and Mrs. Green swears he’s who made all those calls to the colleges. We can’t risk that for Clarke.”

“I’m taking off,” Bellamy called out, alerting them to his presence. Both sets of feet came padding toward the front door to meet him. “Uh, if anything else happens, will you let me know?”

“Of course,” Abby said, darting up to him and pulling him in for a hug. Bellamy froze for a second before returning the hug, a bit confused by the sudden gesture. It’s not that Abby was cold to him or anything, but he didn’t take her for a hugger. “And you’ll come see her tomorrow, right?” When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes, the same panicked tears he had been seeing all day.

“Yeah, and I told Clarke that too. I just gotta get the truck back to my mom so she can go to work,” he explained, and Abby nodded along before looking back at Marcus.

“Alright, you get going then,” Marcus said with a nod. Bellamy’s eyes flickered up the stairs one last time before he walked out the door.

He zoned in and out of the drive home. Vaguely made note of the change in gas prices but mostly his mind was blank. Inside, he handed his mom the keys before going upstairs, mumbling something about Clarke being okay.

The house was silent. No Octavia giggling on the phone. His mom took off, not even accidentally leaving Family Feud on the TV downstairs this time. Bellamy stared at his phone, longing to hear the voice that he had listened to almost every night this school year. But hopefully Clarke was fast asleep now, wearing his jacket to make her feel safe.

His mom was gone for maybe an hour before his door creaked open and Octavia tiptoed in. “Bell, can I sleep in here tonight?” He rolled over and patted the bed beside him. After the bed dipped and Octavia got comfortable, she whispered, “Is Clarke okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “She has a concussion and a lot of bruises, but nothing is broken.”

“Mom told me it was like… you know, what my dad did to her.”

Bellamy turned his head to look at her, catching her wide brown eyes watching him, all scared. Bellamy and his mom never talked about Octavia’s dad to her. She had a general idea of what happened, but it was easier for her to live her life not knowing the details. But he had a feeling his mom had to give Octavia some of the details tonight.

“It was,” he admitted. “But she’s gonna be okay. Just like Mom is okay now.”

“And she’s got you, just like Mom did.” But Bellamy felt just as helpless as he did with his mom all those years ago.

“Yeah, she does. But I don’t have the first clue on how to help her.”

Octavia slid closer to him and curled up on her side. “You really care about her.”

“Of course, I do. She’s my best friend.”

“And girlfriend,” she added in.

“And girlfriend.”

“And you love her.”

Without missing a beat, he whispered, “Yeah.” Didn’t even have to think about it despite those words never popping up in his mind before now. He admitted it as easily as he would if Octavia asked if he liked the color blue. No deliberation needed. He just did.

Maybe it was all the movies he had seen that made him think this should be a bigger realization. A light bulb moment where everything changed because he realized he loved Clarke Griffin. But that wasn’t how it was for Bellamy.

He didn’t have a clue when he fell for her. Logically, he knows he can’t claim that he has always loved Clarke. That’s just not true. But it felt like it was. Like Clarke Griffin had always had this place in his heart. It felt so full of warmth and life now that it was hard to remember that a year ago it was vacant, empty, and just waiting to let someone in.

“I love her,” he admitted. Bellamy didn’t feel any different after saying it. But it was nice. Finally a word to describe the stuttering of his heart and the way just seeing her eyes today made him feel peace.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I done hurting you guys yet? No, I'm not. But we're almost out of the woods, my friends. Chapters 19-20 are infinitely happier and have actual fluff, I swear. But for now, let's get to that good ole hurt/comfort, yeah?

When Clarke was little, her dad left on Tuesdays and came home on Sundays. Always to a different country, always bringing back a present for her. It didn’t matter that Clarke knew he would come home, every Tuesday morning while her mom was trying to get her onto the school bus, Clarke broke down sobbing, begging him not to go.

She’d sleep on his side of the bed while he was gone, always saying she was there so that her mom didn’t get lonely, but it was really for Clarke. And when her dad did get home, Clarke rolled out her sleeping bag on the floor beside their bed, not wanting to miss a single moment with him while he was home. Clarke barely ever slept in her own bed, but she slept so soundly.

Clarke grew out of it eventually, but the easy way she drifted to sleep when near her parents didn’t come back. Not until she and Bellamy started falling asleep on the phone.

She didn’t like sleeping alone.

Tonight, Clarke had no idea where her phone was. It could still be in the parking lot for all Clarke knew, but that meant Clarke couldn’t call Bellamy to help her fall asleep. And as much as wearing his hoodie kept her calm, it wasn’t going to be enough to make her feel safe tonight.

“Mom?” she called out, but she instantly regretted it because her mom came sprinting out of her bedroom in a panic. Clarke hoped there would be a time where her mom didn’t have to be so scared for her all the time. She’s a good mom. She doesn’t deserve what Clarke is putting her through.

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?” she asked.

“Could you sleep in here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me just go tell Marcus I’m sleeping in here.”

Clarke drifted in and out of consciousness as her mom got ready for bed. Not much had changed about her routine. Her mom still put on that cucumber melon lotion right before bed, the same one seven-year-old Clarke would sneak upstairs and put on before diving into her mom’s make up and trying on her heels. There was a moment as her mom climbed into the bed beside her that Clarke forgot what year it was. For that beautiful moment, she was just that little girl who missed her dad and wanted to be close to her mom… not the scared seventeen-year-old who still felt those hands around her neck.

Sleep came easier than usual. But the sleep itself was restless, echoing with dreams that weren’t quite nightmares yet were jarring enough to keep jerking Clarke awake.

The third time it happened, Clarke sat up too quickly and groaned in pain.

“Clarke?” she heard Marcus whisper. She followed the sound of his voice, seeing him lying on the floor beside her bed. He made a little bed for himself on an old quilt and dragged a few pillows in from his room. “Are you okay?”

“When did you come in here?” she asked. He definitely wasn’t in here when Clarke fell asleep earlier.

“About an hour ago. I kept getting up to check on you, so I figured this would save me the walk.”

Clarke lied back down before Marcus saw the tears forming in her eyes. She threw her arm over her eyes, soaking the sleeve of Bellamy’s hoodie with her tears. That’s the kind of thing her dad would have done if he were still here. God, she wished her dad was here right now.

This time when she fell back asleep, she stayed asleep until her alarm clock started blasting Tik Tok by Ke$ha. Clarke had never considered just how not concussion friendly that song was until now. Marcus got to it before she did, cursing a hundred times under his breath in the process. He collapsed back on thee floor, and her mom started laughing. It was that low, very unladylike cackle that was so funny sounding that Clarke couldn’t help but laugh along too. It kind of hurt her head to laugh, but the rest of her needed it.

 

* * *

 

The first day went by in a blur. Both Marcus and her mom took off work. Clarke managed to eat some yogurt but drew the line at toast. She had no idea what anyone did all day, including herself. The first time she bothered to look at her clock was at one in the afternoon.

Only two noteworthy things happened: Bellamy stopped by, and Clarke saw herself in the mirror for the first time since being strangled.

Seeing Bellamy was easy. A lot of holding hands and listening to him talk. What about, she wasn’t quite sure. Clarke struggled to listen, but she liked having him there.

Seeing herself wasn’t easy. Up until now, Clarke hadn’t been turning on lights as she went into rooms. The bulbs were all too bright and hurt her eyes. But she wasn’t thinking about it when she walked into her bathroom. Just flicked on the light like she always did, squinted her eyes while she peed and washed her hands, and then froze in abject horror when she saw her own reflection.

It wasn’t the bags under her eyes or how red they were. It wasn’t her unbrushed hair that she let go unwashed a little too long before all this happened. It was her neck. Bruise after bruise blossomed across her skin. All angry and purplish black, like a violent storm breaking across her throat. Just a simple graze from Clarke’s fingertip made her cry out in pain.

She looked broken.

Clarke couldn’t stop checking her reflection, sometimes forcing herself out of bed even when she shouldn’t to see if it had gotten better or worse. Even though it hurt, she kept poking at the swelling, as if checking to see if it was real. She zipped Bellamy’s hoodie all the way to the top before she fell asleep that night, pretending that if no one could see the marks, then they weren’t there.

 

* * *

 

The second day was full of visitors. Dr. Tsing made a house visit. Clarke really didn’t remember what they talked about, but she overheard Tsing tell her mom that Clarke was still in shock. Principal Diyoza stopped by, but Clarke didn’t get to see her because she was taking a nap.

At four, she heard the doorbell ring and brushed her hair before Bellamy saw her like this. But it wasn’t Bellamy that showed up in her room. It was Murphy carrying flowers in one of her mom’s nicer vases.

“Did you bring me flowers, Murphy?” she giggled as he looked around the room for somewhere to put them.

“Emori told me people bring flowers when someone gets hurt. I don’t know,” he shrugged before dropping them off on her desk. “So, uh, how is everything?” he asked, awkwardly gesturing toward her in a circle.

“Good. I’m not dead, so I’ve got that going for me.” Murphy snorted and tucked his hands into his pockets. “What’s going on at school?”

“Same old same old. Bellamy’s being a dick. And everyone’s asking about how you’re doing.”

“Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yeah. Half the school saw you ride off to the hospital, Clarke.” She didn’t remember any of that. Or really anything after she tried to lunge at Finn. She wasn’t even sure who was there other than Murphy. “Diyoza kept the seniors after assembly yesterday to talk about it. She didn’t use either of your names, but everyone knew.”

At least when Clarke came back in the fall after her suicide attempt, so few people knew about it. There were always eyes on her, but at least she could have the benefit of the doubt because they were all rumors. But when Clarke goes back this time, there wouldn’t be a person in that school who didn’t know exactly what happened to her.

“You said they’re asking about how I’m doing,” she whispered, trying to find the right words for her question. But there were no words to make it sound less horrible than it was. “Is there anyone out there asking about Finn? Like maybe they think I did something to—”

“No,” he cut her off. “No one thinks it’s your fault this time.”

Clarke hadn’t really cried since she got home from the hospital, but right as Murphy stopped speaking, she broke into a sob. She didn’t know why this made her cry. Maybe she was just relieved. But she heaved into her blanket, and a very uncomfortable Murphy just stared at her in a panic.

“Are there tissues in here?” he huffed, his head on a swivel looking for them. “Or do you want a hug? Wait, no. We don’t hug. Fuck, what do I do right now?”

Clarke dabbed her eyes with Bellamy’s jacket sleeve and laughed a little. “You got Finn off me without hesitating but it’s my tears that make you freak out?” she teased.

“Murphy, what did you do?” Bellamy groaned as he came into her room. She didn’t even hear him come in the house.

“I didn’t do anything!” he huffed, throwing his head back.

Clarke laughed, much to Bellamy’s confusion. “He didn’t do anything,” Clarke promised. “He just brought me flowers.” She pointed to them with a smile, sneaking a glance back at Murphy to catch his lips turn up for half a second.

“Didn’t take you for a flowers kind of guy,” Bellamy smirked.

“I’ll have you know that I am a gentleman,” Murphy scoffed. “Alright, I’m gonna bounce before you two start making out or whatever.” Bellamy rolled his eyes as he plopped down on Clarke’s bed.

“Hey, Murphy?” she called out. He turned around, resting his shoulder against the doorframe. “Thanks.”

“For the flowers?”

Clarke’s smile faltered as she tried to make herself thank him properly for seeing her, for coming to her rescue, for stopping her from doing anything stupid, and for being the voice she recognized when everything else was blurry and confusing. He intervened when Clarke had given up. No, not just given up. Dared Finn to do it. Taunted him and let herself romanticize the idea of it all being over.

But Murphy fought for her life and reminded her that she needed to fight for it too.

“Yeah, those too,” she sighed. Murphy blinked a few times before nodding and turning into the hallway. As soon as she heard the stairs creak, she scooted over on her bed, patting next to her. Bellamy raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Come here. I want you to hold me,” she pouted, and his smirk transformed into a full-on smile.

“How did we go from you nervously asking if I would to you straight up telling me to?” he snickered as he propped himself up against her headboard. Clarke groaned as she curled into his side, carefully laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Tell me something,” she murmured into his shirt.

“Diyoza figured out I punched Finn.”

Bellamy had brought up that punch every time he visited Clarke, and she needed it to stop. Clarke didn’t want to think about it. It made her equal parts jealous that he got to punch Finn and worried that her level headed boyfriend snapped like that. It wasn’t like she could blame him. What Finn did to her rattled a lot of people, herself included. Had she not had a concussion, there is no doubt that Clarke would have hurt Finn herself, so she can’t fault Bellamy for having the same reaction. It would be hypocritical… and yet, that concern still bubbled to the surface every time she thought about it.

She didn’t like it. But it wasn’t worth arguing over.

“Oh?”

“She gave me a warning.”

“Well,” Clarke sighed, “you got lucky.”

When she looked up at Bellamy, he was giving her a strange look. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Clarke was relieved when he whispered, “Tell me something.”

“Have I ever told you about that time I went to theater camp and decided to change my name and take on a whole new persona?” she asked, and Bellamy laughed so hard she could feel it in his chest. Whatever scowl was on his face was gone now, replaced with that smile he reserved only for her. God, she loves that smile.

And him, though when she thought that, it always felt like there was a question mark at the end. Just a year ago, Clarke was certain she knew what love looked and felt like. This thing with Bellamy was different. Easy… too easy, right? It couldn’t be this simple. She loves him, but she’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Logically, she knew the question mark that she kept hearing was put there by Finn. Three years of being conditioned to believe that love was hard. That having to walk on eggshells was part of it. That it was normal for a boyfriend to keep her up all night on the phone ripping apart every part of her he hates until she spends the entire next day sobbing.

Clarke doesn’t fight with Bellamy. The closest she came to it was on Monday when they were arguing about Clarke reaching out to Raven. And even then, Bellamy was only upset because he was worried about her, unlike Finn who took any and all anger out on Clarke.

The distinction between the love she had for Finn and the love she has for Bellamy was clear. One was a dark, scary thing obscured by obscene romantic gestures and tearful apologies. The other is gentle and comforting, like her bed after a long day or watching Singin’ in the Rain even though she’s seen it a thousand times. It just seems too good to be true.

There had to be a catch. Or maybe, Clarke was the catch. Too broken to really appreciate it. So scared of being hurt again that she’ll push him away. Or she was too shattered to be loved again.

 

* * *

 

On the third day, Headmaster Wallace showed up at the house.

Marcus and her mom hadn’t told her anything about what was going on with the school, but Clarke knew how to read between the lines. It wasn’t what they wanted, which was probably the real reason Wallace was here.

Both of them fussed over Clarke as she made her way down the stairs. Her mom was a doctor. Surely she knew that Clarke was fine to walk now, yet she still insisted on walking in step with her down the stairs.

Wallace was seated at the kitchen table and rose to his feet as soon as he saw Clarke. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked.

Clarke wrapped Bellamy’s hoodie tighter around her as she took the seat across from him. “Fine.”

He forced a weak smile as he sat back down, and Clarke didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to her neck. His pathetic attempt at a smile fell right off his face as soon as he saw the marks Finn left on her.

“Headmaster Wallace brought flowers,” her mom said.

“Right, yes. They’re from the entire faculty,” he stuttered, his eyes finally meeting hers again.

She didn’t bother to look. “Thanks,” she muttered. “So, is Finn going to be at school when I go back Monday or not?”

His eyes widened as he looked to Marcus and her mom. Maybe Clarke was supposed to be more polite and wait for him to get around to it, but she was tired and just wanted to get back in bed. And frankly, just looking at Wallace’s face pissed her off.

“Well, no,” he said, and Clarke’s mom fell into the seat beside her with a smile on her lips. “His parents have decided that given recent events—”

“You mean him strangling me?” Clarke snapped.

“Clarke,” her mom warned.

“Uh, yes, that. Anyway, Finn has been admitted into a facility that can help him with some of his mental health problems.”

“And what happens when he gets out?” Marcus asked.

“We haven’t figured that out yet. Clarke’s safety at school is obviously our priority, but if there is a way we can ensure that both students get to make it to graduation—”

“You’re gonna let him come back,” Clarke sighed, clenching her eyes shut. “Of course, you are.”

“That’s not what I said, Clarke. The school and the board believe that Finn has serious mental health problems. He will be punished for what he did to you, but we don’t want to ruin his future over a mistake that was made during a manic episode.” Where was all this convenient mental health vernacular last summer when Clarke needed it?

Marcus and her mom shared a look that Clarke didn’t understand, but neither of them said a word.

“And all of this is hypothetical until he leaves the facility, which could be anywhere between next week to months after graduation.”

“Hypothetically if he were to come back, would he still be in Clarke’s classes?” her mom asked.

“He’ll likely have to drop AP Spanish and AP European History, so Clarke will no longer have any classes with him. And we would switch his lunch period too.”

“And how do you keep him away from me for the rest of the day?”

“Diyoza and I are discussing that. Right now, we’re leaning toward requiring him to spend the time before assembly, his break period, and any other non-class time in our office under supervision. Essentially, if he is on campus, he either has to be in class or with us.”

It could work. Every time Finn has attacked her it was when they were alone. Alone while he strangled her. Alone when he shoved his fingers inside her. Alone when he told her to kill herself.

Their plan would prevent them from ever being alone together on campus. That’s really what Clarke wanted all this time. But he’d still be there lurking around every corner of her mind.

“As for Monday, the faculty met this morning to discuss accommodations. The counselor will be getting to school earlier and will be staying late in case you need him while on campus.” Like Clarke was going to talk to that counselor without being forced. “All of your teachers have been told to excuse you if you need to step out of class for any reason…”

Clarke zoned out as he listed the accommodations. Her gaze flickered to flowers Wallace brought over, all blue and white. Their school colors. Murphy’s flowers were prettier. Carnations of all sorts of colors, still with a Publix price tag on them

She liked flowers even though she told Finn she hated them. Clarke really just hated roses, which were the flowers Finn insisted on bringing her anyway. She didn’t have a good reason for disliking them. No symbolism or traumatic memory, just being annoyed at the cliché of a boy bringing her roses. Finn was determined to change her mind about them. He knew her favorite flowers were daisies, yet anniversary after anniversary, he forced roses onto her and insisted that she’d learn to love them. Now, she hates them with a burning passion. Especially the red ones.

 

* * *

 

Marcus and her mom drove Clarke to school on Monday. They both kept chatting away in front seat about vacation ideas for the summer. It was clearly a ploy to keep Clarke distracted, but she played along. Threw in a few beaches she liked in the past while staring out the window.

The car went completely silent as Marcus pulled into the circle. She could feel both of them searching for some words of comfort, but there weren’t any. The only comfort Clarke had was that she knew Finn wasn’t here today. No guarantees about the future. But she’s safe today. That would have to be enough.

The campus was quiet. It was early enough that only a handful of students would be on campus.

The nerves Clarke felt jumping around in her chest felt like the same ones she had her first day at Arkadian. She was standing right here, looking around at the campus trying to remember which building had the lockers.

_You lost?_

His voice echoed through her ears.

_Oh, yeah. The lockers are this way. Here, I’ll show you._

Clarke braced her back against one of the white columns and sucked in a deep breath.

_I’m Finn, by the way._

“Clarke?” She jerked upright, turning to see Sterling walking up to her. “You okay?”

“Yep,” she lied. She started to walk, but she forgot where she was going. Clarke stood there for a second, furrowing her brows. What was she doing before Finn got into her head?

“You heading to your locker?” Sterling asked. Right. Her locker. That’s always how she started her day.

“Yeah.” Sterling fell in step with her as they made their way inside. He didn’t say much which, to be fair, he never really did. Clarke hardly knew him. This was probably the most he had ever spoken to her. So, why was he walking with her right now?

Clarke spotted Bellamy leaning against her locker and picked up her pace to go meet him. It was only when she was feet away from him that she realized Sterling had disappeared from her side. Weird.

“Hey,” he grinned, and Clarke stood up on her tiptoes for a kiss. His lips met hers with a small chuckle, and for a moment, the morning felt normal. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she sighed, nudging him to the side so she could get her books. “Just tired.” When she looked over at him, he was giving her a look that said he knew she was lying. “I just want to get through today, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

They hung out by her locker for a while, neither of them really saying anything of substance. Just small talk about classes and exams. When they started walking to assembly, there were more students out and about. It started to feel like a normal morning.

And then she stepped into assembly.

The faculty were the first to notice her. Their conversations died as soon as their heads snapped in her direction. Bellamy nudged her by the back before anyone got a chance to say anything to her.

It wasn’t any better inside. The chatter died off in a low wave as student after student spotted Clarke walking to her seat. Laughter and shouts turned into inaudible whispers that somehow felt louder to her. When she got to the senior section, there weren’t any whispers. Just silence and about eighty pairs of eyes on her.

Monty jumped to his feet so Clarke could get by. Usually, he just turned in his seat and let her stumble over him.

_Oh, you’ll be sitting next to Monty._

Clarke’s eyes jerked to Finn’s assembly seat. He wasn’t here. She needed to remember that he wasn’t here.

_Better get used to him. All the teachers seat alphabetical for the first month to learn names, so you’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Don’t worry, though. He’s a cool guy, aren’t you, Monty?_

She could even hear him patting Monty on the back.

“Clarke? Are you okay?” Monty asked, and she just waved him off as she took her seat.

Finn wasn’t here. Maybe if she kept reminding herself of that, she’d start to believe it.

 

* * *

 

It kept happening. Everywhere she went, she heard his voice. Sometimes it was something easy, like remembering that first day at Arkadian.

Other times, it was something that made Clarke stop dead in her tracks. A comment about how tight her uniform skirt had gotten. A reminder that he liked it when she straightened her hair for him. An accusation after Clarke talked a little too long with Atom. Him crying.

Finn wasn’t even here, yet he was still tormenting her.

Whenever Clarke did freeze, someone was there to get her mind back on track. Usually Bellamy. But as she was walking to study hall and heard Finn ask if she read the poem he wrote for her, it was Zoe Monroe who was walking beside her who snapped her out of it. On the way to lunch when she heard him trying to sing to her even though he had a horrible voice, it was Atom who powerwalked to catch up with her before asking if she needed notes for Physics.

Clarke didn’t know where everyone kept coming from. She never walked beside Zoe Monroe to class. Atom took horrible notes and would know that Clarke was better off winging it on her own. And this morning with Sterling was weird too.

The first moment where Clarke actually got to be alone was in the cafeteria. The line was too chaotic and loud, so she just went to her table to enjoy the quiet until the line died down. She pressed her cheek into the cool table and took a deep breath.

_Why don’t you come sit at my table?_

Clarke sat up with a gasp.

“Clarke, are you okay?” Murphy asked as he dropped his tray onto the table.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she snapped. After a beat, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“I get it.”

“Why is everyone all over me today?”

“Your hair looks nice. Or maybe it’s because you almost died last week.” Murphy stabbed at the pasta with a fork.

“I didn’t almost die. Finn is an inefficient strangler,” she muttered.

“Looked pretty damn efficient to me.” The snark behind his voice was gone, and Clarke’s stomach dropped. “Honestly, everyone is all over you because they feel guilty. You should have heard all these assholes last week. In advisory, I had to listen to Bree cry because you two used to be so close and when you needed your best friend Bree most, she wasn’t there for you.”

“I haven’t hung out with Bree since freshman year.”

“Exactly,” he huffed before stabbing another piece of pasta. “No one would shut up about how they had a feeling something was wrong and didn’t do anything. ‘Oh, this is my fault’ and ‘I didn’t know what to do’ and somehow I’m the one who gets sent to the principal because I cussed them out and told them it was their fault for not doing anything.”

Before Clarke could respond to whatever that was, Bellamy dropped a plate in front of her.

“I’m not hungry,” she sighed.

“Humor me, please,” he pleaded, and Clarke took the fork from his hand.

“Clarke’s worked up because everyone is all over her,” Murphy said.

“It’s everyone from Pike’s advisory. He asked them all to keep an eye on you and make sure you felt safe when you came back,” Bellamy explained.

“Oh.” Clarke ducked her head as she tried to control the overwhelming urge to cry. After a beat, it passed, and Clarke forced herself to take a bite of pasta.

Murphy and Bellamy kept on talking while Clarke focused on eating at least half of what Bellamy brought her. Her gaze kept drifting around the cafeteria, catching classmates and underclassmen she doesn’t even know stealing glances at her.

The rest of lunch went by in a blur. Bellamy and Clarke snuck off to the stage after. She rested her head in his lap while he played with her hair, but neither of them said a word.

She thought she was better in time to go to Spanish. Clarke was walking hand in hand with Bellamy in the hallway parallel the stage, and then she froze.

 _Hey. I love you_.

His hand sliding up her skirt. The gentle squeeze to her thigh. Being pinned up against the wall, the same wall beside her now.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Clarke?” Bellamy whispered.

Finn wasn’t here but he was everywhere. He was gone but she couldn’t get away from him.

“Hey, is everything okay?” someone called out, because apparently the whole school was looking out for her now. Not much good that would do now that the worst already happened.

Clarke braced her hand against the wall and let out a quiet sob.

“Clarke, talk to me,” Bellamy pleaded, and she hated herself for making him worry. She really was fine. This was stupid. Nothing, really. Just remembering something that happened months ago.

“Let’s give her some space.” That was a woman’s voice.

“You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not!” Clarke screamed before turning around. Mrs. Sydney had come out of her classroom, Murphy, Monty, and Harper too. Headmaster Wallace was powerwalking over to them.

It was Mrs. Sydney who tried to talk to her next. “I know this is hard, but—”

“No, you don’t,” Clarke spat. “You don’t have to pass the exact spot where you were sexually assaulted on the way to Spanish class every single day!” She was doing so good until she came through this hallway. And now, she’s sobbing. “And in an hour, I’m going to pass by the column he had me pinned up against when he convinced me I should kill myself. An hour after that, I’ll walk past the senior parking lot where I got strangled less than a week ago. So, please. Don’t pretend like you get it or care. You never cared until now! None of you did!”

Clarke felt the pang of guilt as soon as she saw Mrs. Sydney’s eyes widen in horror. Just past her was Wallace, watching with a similarly pained expression.

The guilt was strong, but her relief was stronger. It was an awful, horrible thing to yell at people who were trying to help her right now, but it was the truth that had been trying to claw its way out of her mouth for so long. Their final straw was seeing Finn strangle Clarke. Not when he tormented her. Not when he talked her into killing herself. Not as he followed her home from school. Not even when he assaulted her right where she was standing now.

It took Finn’s hands around her neck for everyone to believe her. Not just Wallace who was the board’s bitch and Sydney who wrote Clarke off as a hysterical teenage girl every time she asked Sydney to keep Finn away from her in class. But all the students too. On some level, each of them knew Finn was hurting her. And they were okay with it until the second time Clarke could have died.

They don’t get points for being there for her now. Maybe it helps them forgive themselves, but Clarke can’t forgive them. A lot of them were her friends once, and they left her all alone.

She closed the distance between her and Bellamy before burying her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she heaved. There was some whispering and footsteps around them, probably Sydney shooing everyone else to class.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Clarke admitted. Bellamy rested his head on top of hers.

“It’ll get easier,” he sighed. She was about to ask how he could know that before remembering that this isn’t his first time dealing with this kind of thing. He saw it all with his mom and watched her get better. “I’ll help you. You’re not alone, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

His mom slapped two twenties onto the kitchen table in front of him. “What is this for?” he grumbled before taking in another spoonful of cereal.

“You’re taking Octavia to the mall to get a new dress for the banquet.”

Since Clarke was attacked, things hadn’t been easy. Her first week back was miserable. Tears every day, and all Bellamy could do was just be there. It wasn’t enough. Bellamy couldn’t figure out how to help the girl he loves, and it was eating away at him.

“I’m not going to the dumb banquet!” Octavia yelled from the couch.

At home, he felt just as helpless. Octavia withdrew completely. Every day after school she’d go straight to her room and only come out for dinner. No more late phone calls with Niylah. Just homework and sleep. She wouldn’t tell him what was bothering her. And now, she apparently didn’t want to go to the sports banquet.

Not being able to help either of them was slowly killing him. Long days of watching Clarke space out and waiting for her to eventually come back to him followed by long nights of hoping Octavia will talk to him. In between, he had a few moments of levity with Murphy and an occasional self-loathing thought for punching Finn Collins.

 “Yes, you are,” his mom called out before sitting down next to Bellamy. “You’ll take her, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered.

“Both of you need to get out of this house for a little bit. With everything you’re going through—”

“I’m not going through anything,” he snapped, and her jaw twitched. “I’m not. O is, but not me. I’m fine.”

“Octavia, go get dressed!” she yelled. Octavia groaned as she stomped up the stairs.

His bowl of cereal was yanked away before he got to finish it and thrown into the sink. “I am fine,” he told her again, and when she turned around, she had an eyebrow raised. “Look, it’s been a rough week. Clarke is struggling, and so is Octavia but she won’t tell me why.”

“And you don’t think all that is affecting you?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“No, it’s not.” Bellamy doesn’t get affected by this stuff. He can’t be. If Bellamy fell apart, then what would happen to his mom or O? Or Clarke? They all depended on him, so he had to be fine.

His mom’s words lingered in his head as he got dressed. Maybe she knew that punching Finn was still haunting Bellamy. Well, not even the punching. But Clarke not reacting to it. That asshole was restrained. There was no threat to Clarke’s safety in that moment. He couldn’t fight back. But Bellamy was so blindly furious that he punched him and would have kept punching him had he not been pulled back. Given what Clarke has experienced, she should have a problem with that.

Octavia already had the money in her hands and was waiting by the front door for him. No make up on, wearing an old sweatshirt she normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. But he didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the keys and gestured for her to follow.

“You wanna call Niylah and see if she wants to help pick out the dress?” he offered.

“No.” She slammed the truck door shut behind her.

They drove in silence for fifteen minutes before Bellamy tried again. “Do you know where you want to shop?”

“No.”

“O, what the hell is going on with you?”

“I just wanted to stay home today, okay?” she groaned before turning on the radio.

He didn’t bother trying again after that. Kept his mouth shut all the way to the mall. Once inside, he started to head toward the food court to wait for her.

“Where are you going?” she asked. There was a small panic in her voice, one he hadn’t heard since the last time she had a nightmare and came running into his room.

“I thought I would just wait for you,” he said as calmly as he could, but the worried look on her face was making his heart pound. “Or do you want me to shop with you?”

“Oh,” she whispered, her face falling. “No, you don’t have to.”

“I will. It’d probably be more interesting than people watching,” he shrugged.

The two of them stood like that, frozen, waiting for the other to argue. But after a beat, Octavia turned toward Forever 21, and Bellamy fell in step with her.

He’ll never understand how she can shop in this store. He can’t find anything in here. Half the racks were always torn apart no matter how many employees were there. Most of the clothes were kind of nice but then a stupid slogan or an inconvenient yet purposeful tear ruined it. But Octavia weaved through this store like she had a treasure map or something, pulling dresses off the racks with a speed that would put most Olympians to shame.

She made him sit on the bench outside of her dressing room, which was odd. It’s not like she came out to show him anything she was trying on or even talked to him. But she got upset when he mentioned waiting for her by the register, so he stayed put.

They ended up with a little extra cash, so Bellamy insisted they each get a slice at Sbarro, a tradition they haven’t performed in years.

“I think I could wear this dress to your graduation too,” she explained. He knew she wouldn’t. Octavia would have her eyes on a newer, flashier dress by then. But it was nice to hear her talk to him again. “I could put sandals with it when it gets warmer. Maybe wedges for your graduation.”

“You own wedges?” he snorted.

“No, but Niylah does. I could borrow from her.”

“How is Niylah? I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“Fine,” she muttered, dropping her head.

“What’s going on with Niylah?”

“Nothing,” she groaned.

“O.”

“Stop, okay? I don’t bother you about your stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re on edge all the time and haven’t been sleeping?”

“It’s been a hard week for Clarke and—”

“And you too,” she snapped, raising her eyebrows.

“Did Mom say something to you?”

“She didn’t have to.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”

“If you tell me, I’ll tell you,” he sighed.

Octavia’s eyes darted around the food court before meeting his. “I just don’t like going out anymore,” she muttered.

“Why? And why aren’t you hanging out with Niylah?”

“Because she doesn’t understand,” she groaned. “She’s not like us, Bell. Her parents have been together forever. Neither of them would ever hurt each other or her and—”

“This is about your dad,” he realized, throwing his head back.

“No, it’s not!” she snapped. “I decided to take down my Facebook, and Niylah started acting all weird about it. So, I tried to explain that I didn’t want my dad finding me, and she just laid into me about not letting that control me. Which was not what was happening at all, so I got mad and—”

“Wait,” he interrupted. “You deleted your Facebook because you’re scared of your dad?” Why hadn’t Bellamy noticed Octavia hadn’t been checking her Facebook obsessively? He should have noticed. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Anyway, Niylah said—”

“O,” he said. “You know he can’t find you, right? He doesn’t even know your name.” Octavia blinked her dark eyes a few times, her lips parted in a small ‘o’. “He’s never going to find you. Neither of us will let that happen, okay?” Bellamy might be paranoid as hell about it, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t happen. They were careful. No one from their old life knew where they went. That bastard would never find them, especially not Octavia.

She sat there frozen for a few moments letting his words wash over her. Eventually, she relaxed into her seat.

“What Mom told you really freaked you out, didn’t it?” he whispered, and she nodded slowly before rubbing under her eye with her sweatshirt sleeve. “And everything with Clarke hasn’t made it easier.”

“It’s just… Mom got strangled too.”

That was the first time someone had said that out loud. It had been in the back of his mind all this time, but he was ignoring it, pretending like that didn’t factor into Bellamy’s reaction to what happened to Clarke.

But he couldn’t ignore it now that it was out there.

Bellamy took his and Octavia’s trays up to the trash can before leading her out to the truck.

“You said you’d talk too,” she reminded him as soon as they were in the car.

“I know,” he sighed. He didn’t even bother putting the keys in the ignition yet. “I punched Finn.”

“Good. He deserved it.”

“Not good. It was after they got him off her. Two guys were holding him down. He couldn’t defend himself, and I still punched him in the face and then tried again.”

“Is Clarke upset about it?”

“I think she is deep down, but she hasn’t said anything,” he sighed. Bellamy kept his eyes fixed on the windshield, making note of the newest crack by the wipers. “Clarke doesn’t ever get mad at me, even when I’m a jerk.”

“Uh, okay.”

“That’s what’s bothering me. She’s always saying that she’s sorry even if it’s not her fault.” She apologized for crying, for making him worry about her, and for being difficult. And he always reassured her that she wasn’t difficult, that she had every right to cry, and that he was going to worry about her no matter what because that’s just how he was. But she kept on apologizing anyway, as if she were really apologizing for just existing. “I think it’s because of Finn. I think she’s scared to argue with me because of what he would do when she got upset with him.”

“Maybe she just understands why you did it.”

“She doesn’t know that Mom got strangled. I’ve never told her. I don’t… I don’t tell people that.” Bellamy’s eyes fell shut. “It felt good for a moment. Punching him, I mean. Like this time I was finally big and strong enough to stand up to him. I couldn’t do that for Mom.” Maybe that’s why he did it.

“You were a kid. What could you have done?”

“More. I don’t know,” he muttered.

“You should talk to Clarke.”

 “I will.”

“Promise?” Octavia asked, holding out her pinky.

With a sigh, he took it. “Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Niylah’s parents dropped her off around eight. His mom was on her way out the door when Niylah and Octavia ran up the stairs together.

“How’d you fix that?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Figured out it was about her dad.” The smile fell right off his mom’s face as soon as he said it. “Are you okay?”

Bellamy wasn’t sure why he hadn’t asked that in the last week. He checked up on Clarke and Octavia constantly, so why didn’t he check up on his mom too? If Octavia was taking it this hard without ever knowing her dad, then he couldn’t imagine how hard this must be on his mom.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that made his chest ache. “That was a long time ago.” Before Bellamy could say anything else, she grabbed the keys and slipped out the door.

Bellamy locked the door behind her and turned off all the lights in the living room. From the stairs, he could hear Octavia and Niylah squealing in the bathroom, and he felt a little lighter.

“You look like a raccoon!” Niylah laughed.

“No, I don’t! This is how Avril does her eyeliner!”

“She looks like a raccoon too.”

“Hold still. You’re joining the raccoon club.”

There was some shuffling and giggling. Bellamy barely got out of the way before Niylah came running out the door followed by Octavia chasing her with eyeliner in hand. He didn’t bother telling them to keep it down. He just smiled to himself as he closed his bedroom door behind him.

He dialed Clarke and fell back onto his bed. On the first ring, she picked up.

“Hey, Bell,” she whispered. He had just seen her yesterday, but somehow, it felt like he hadn’t heard her soft voice in years.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. I made cupcakes today.”

“Did you make me any cupcakes?” he chuckled.

“Yep. You’ll get them on Monday. Tell me something.”

“Octavia’s better now,” he sighed. Bellamy wished he could bounce back as Octavia could. Just hours ago, she was sullen and despondent. And now, she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“What was bothering her?”

Bellamy bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t want to lie to Clarke, but he also didn’t want her to find a way to blame herself for it. “It was just some stuff about her dad,” he admitted. Clarke didn’t need to know that her attack was what sparked it. “We talked about it and now Niylah is spending the night and she seems normal again.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, it is.” The only good thing that’s happened this week. “Tell me something.”

“I told Wells about what happened.” Bellamy put her on speaker so he could get changed for bed. “He freaked out and wanted to drive up to come see me, but I told him I’m okay now.”

“He just wants to be there for you.”

“Yeah, but everyone wants to be there for me right now and it’s exhausting,” she groaned. “Harper stopped by the house today to drop off her and Monty’s notes and—”

“Did you tell her I already gave you my notes?”

“No, but their notes are better anyway. You were a little distracted that week.” That was fair. “Anyway, she wanted to talk about everything and remind me that she’s there for me… and I’m just tired of having to talk about it. Wells can come visit another time and I can do the whole tearful explanation then, but I’m too tired right now.”

“Fair enough.” As soon as he was in the bed, he took her off speaker and tucked the phone under his ear as he curled up onto his side. It was a habit now for him to wrap his arms around a pillow while he was on the phone with her. Maybe it was his way of tricking himself into thinking she was here with him.

“Tell me something.”

His mind went back to his conversation with his sister. This probably wasn’t the right time. But he wasn’t sure there would ever be a right time for this conversation. So, he sucked in a deep breath and said, “I shouldn’t have punched Finn.”

Bellamy’s eyes stayed fixed on the bright red numbers on his alarm clock, waiting in silence for exactly seventeen seconds before Clarke whispered, “Okay.” He sat upright, expecting some follow up response. Disagreement or agreement. Annoyance or understanding. Anything except the empty word she just uttered. “Is it my turn now?”

“No,” he said, falling back onto the pillow. “Do you not have a reaction to that?”

“How do you want me to react?” she groaned.

“I just want your honest reaction.”

“Fine. You’re right. You shouldn’t have punched Finn.” The words were there but her voice still sounded empty.

“Does it upset you that I did?” he prodded. There was this voice in the back of his head warning him not to push, but he did it anyway. “That he couldn’t hurt you anymore and I still decided to hit him”?

“Bellamy, what is going on with you?”

“You should be mad at me!”

“You were upset and you snapped. Why would I be mad at you for that?”

“Because that’s the same justification Finn uses!”

Tears prickled in Bellamy’s eyes and he used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe them away. Clarke didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did he.

“I don’t want to be like him.” Bellamy wasn’t sure if he was talking about Finn or Octavia’s dad… or if it really mattered which. He didn’t want to be either of them. All his life, he was so sure that he wasn’t going to be like them. How could he be? He saw what happened, he spent his whole life terrified, and yet here he was, using his fist when he was scared.

“You’re not, Bell. You would never hurt me.” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t forgive himself if he did. Clarke was everything to him.

Except, he did hurt her. The day before Finn attacked her, Bellamy hurt her. “What about when I tried to stop you from telling Raven?”

“You were right.”

“No, I wasn’t. I got upset. I said some things I shouldn’t have. I made you cry too, didn’t I?”

“Bellamy, stop.”

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” He could still hear her nervous voice asking if he was mad at her. His heart broke just thinking about it.

“I don’t get mad at you.”

“Why not?”

She was scared. That was the only possible answer. Scared of him. Scared of how he would react. Maybe if he could get her to admit it, he could help fix it. Just like he helped fix things for Octavia. Bellamy couldn’t go back in time and fix the biggest thing that was wrong, but he could fix this.

He was so certain she would admit it was because she was scared that he wasn’t prepared for what actually fell off her lips.

“This is the only way I know how to love someone.”

There was no anger or frustration behind her voice. Just a sad whisper like she was scared to confess that out loud. It was a confession that simultaneously broke his heart and made it feel like it would beat itself out of his chest. She loves him, whether she realized she admitted it or not. He guessed by the way she kept talking that she didn’t.

“I never get to be mad at anyone. Couldn’t get mad about my dad because my mom said it was the only choice and I just had to make peace with it. If I got mad at Finn, he’d cry and ask if I still loved him. And I didn’t—”

Her first sob tore through his heart like a knife.

“I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t love him just because I was mad about something dumb he said or did. I didn’t want my mom to think I don’t love her just because I was upset about my dad. So, I can’t just get mad at you. Especially not when you were trying to protect me. I don’t want you to think I don’t—”

“Clarke,” he pleaded, pulling the pillow tighter against his chest. God, he wished she were here so he could hold her like this. Tight and warm against him. Make her feel safe. “You can get mad at me. I promise I won’t think that you don’t…” This wasn’t the right time to throw that word at her. Not while she was scared and crying. It needed to be a happy moment, one far removed from the pain Finn pushed onto her. So, he continued, “that you don’t care about me. Sometimes, I’m gonna be stupid and not think before saying something. And you get to be mad at me for it.”

“That’s easier said than done,” she sighed between sniffles.

“We can work on it. We got time. Maybe you could enlist Murphy for help. He’s real good at calling me out when I’m being a dick.”

Her unexpected laugh was such a beautiful sound amidst all the tears. He loved her laugh.

“I’ll ask him for some pointers,” she giggled.

They were quiet for a few moments, and Bellamy finally let himself think back on what Clarke confessed. _This is the only way I know how to love someone_. It wasn’t the same as an _I love you_. He wasn’t entirely sure that what she said meant that she did love him, but it felt like it did.

There’s a way for him to know for sure, but the timing isn’t right and he wants to say it face to face. Make it special like their first kiss. Maybe when Clarke’s life went back to normal, he could tell her. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do.

“Tell me something,” he whispered, more as a distraction from his pounding heart than anything.

“I’m wearing your hoodie right now.” He already guessed that, but the confirmation made him smile. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

“Bring it to school on Monday and we’ll trade hoodies,” he chuckled.

“Okay. It doesn’t weird you out that I sleep in your hoodies?”

“No,” he admitted. He loved it, actually. Loved thinking about her in his clothes, having something of his to hold onto when she missed him.

“Tell me something.”

“I’m gonna kiss you on Monday.”

“I already knew that,” she giggled, and Bellamy shut his eyes. That giggle really was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Tell me something else.”

“That’s not how this game works. You can’t just decide you want me to tell you a different something. You tell me something.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he sighed.  “I miss you all the time.” He tilted his head up when he heard whispering outside his door.

“Tell me something.”

“Octavia and Niylah are listening in right now,” he said, loud enough so the girls would hear him. Bellamy didn’t bother to get up and chase them away. He could hear their panicked running back to Octavia’s room before the door slammed behind them. Clarke laughed the whole time and Bellamy couldn’t help but smile.

For a moment, everything felt normal.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, a few things:
> 
> 1) we got a final chapter count, which I'm kind of sad about because I'm not sure I'm ready to be done with this fic.
> 
> 2) there's a new tag: eventual smut. and guess what? we're getting pretty close to the eventual part. true to form, we're slow burning the sexy, and that burn starts this chapter. 
> 
> 3) i'm still working on the playlist, but i'm kind of bad at putting together playlists??? we'll see if it gets done. 
> 
> anyway, get ready for fluff, a little bit of angst but not really, and then fluff and smut, but light on the smut.

“How did it go?”

Clarke slammed her locker shut and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Bellamy. He laughed a little against her mouth, but she didn’t care. After two long weeks of playing catch up, she was finally back on schedule. Sure, she had to get to the school at 6:30 to take her make up Calculus exam, but now she was home free… well, as home free as any senior with a schedule made up entirely of AP classes could be.

“Good,” she sighed before throwing her arms around his neck.

The blush that crept up his neck and cheeks was adorable. She couldn’t help but kiss both cheeks as he looked around to see if anyone saw them.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re at school?” he chuckled. It was amazing how normal everything felt now. Going to school was just going to school. No worrying about Finn or looking over her shoulder. Just being annoyed about class and sneaking off to kiss Bellamy whenever she got the chance.

“No.” Her hands slid down his jacket, her thumbs trailing over the zipper. When she looked back up at him, his eyes were on her mouth. All she had to do was tilt her head up and pout a little, and he was kissing her again. “We’re at school, Bell,” she teased, and he pulled away with a low curse.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned as he fell back against the lockers. A handful of sophomores walked by, but as soon as they were out of sight, Bellamy grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. “We picking this up after lunch?”

“It’s a date,” she giggled. She pulled on her backpack and the two of them started walking down the hallway.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Probably talking on the phone with you unless you have a better idea.”

“Does hanging out with me count as a better idea?” he smirked, and Clarke nudged him with her shoulder. Their hands separated as they passed the principal’s office. They had already been caught for PDA once this week, but Sinclair let it slide. So, they were attempting to be more careful. “Attempting” being the operative word. Once outside, their hands joined again.

“Do you have a plan for tomorrow night or am I just supposed to—” Clarke cut herself off when she heard a familiar voice screaming.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

That was Mrs. Collins’ voice. Clarke yanked Bellamy by the hand and hid behind one of the columns.

“Clarke, what are you—” She slapped her hand over his mouth and slowly peered her head around the column.

“I’m not going to sit in there and listen to that bitch talk about my son like that!” Finn’s dad yelled.

Bellamy tried to move but Clarke shot him a pleading look. She couldn’t let either of Finn’s parents see her. His mom cornered her enough times in the last year begging her to talk to Finn. And Finn’s dad always rubbed Clarke the wrong way. Who knows what they’d do if they saw her now?

“She’s just worried. Maybe it’s too soon to take him out of—”

“Karen, we’re leaving. Get in the damn car,” he growled. The lurch in Clarke’s stomach was all too familiar.

 _You’re acting crazy again, Clarke. Just get in the fucking car_.

Clarke didn’t have to see Mr. Collins to know how he looked. A scowl across his features, tense shoulders, maybe gripping the car door like he wants to break it… the same way Finn looked when he yelled at Clarke like that.

“No! You can’t just throw a temper tantrum every time you don’t get your way. Let’s just—”

“Karen!” he screamed, and Clarke’s entire body shuddered. It was the same voice. The same terrifying jolt that thrashed through her body. A tone so terrifying that it paralyzes.

How did Clarke not notice that before? She lost count of how many trips she took with Finn’s family and awkward dinners she sat through. His dad was always like this. Yelling at Karen for messing up the GPS, for forgetting to tell him that Clarke was coming over for dinner, or for not greeting him at the door when he got home like some kind of fifties housewife. Finn told her it was like that all the time and not to worry.

That’s when it hit her: Finn grew up with that. That’s where it all came from.

The sound of his parents driving away didn’t relieve her nearly as much as the realization that it wasn’t her fault. Finn wasn’t like this because of her. He learned it from watching them.

“Clarke?” Bellamy whispered.

“Those were Finn’s parents,” she told him, letting her back relax against the column.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” And for once, it wasn’t a lie. When she looked up at Bellamy, she could tell he didn’t believe her. She reached down and grabbed his hand. “I’m really okay.”

Everyone had been telling her it wasn’t her fault, but there was this small part of her that didn’t believe that. Maybe the manipulation was just that deep. But finally, there was proof that it wasn’t her. Clarke didn’t make him like this. He was already this way.

 

* * *

 

It was their first date in weeks, which was why Clarke’s chair was covered in shirts she had tried on and then tossed to the side.

Logically, she understood that Bellamy did not care what she wore. He’s seen her concussed, bruised up, and having gone days without a proper shower. He’s also seen her drunk with smudged eyeliner and messy hair. There were very few instances where Bellamy saw her actually looking good. But that didn’t stop Clarke from obsessing over the one eyelash that wouldn’t curl right.

Clarke settled on a black tank top and a sweater. It was simple, but she was a little bit proud of how her cleavage looked in it. She pulled it up a bit as she descended the stairs, not wanting her mom to send her back upstairs to put something else on.

Bellamy was waiting for her by the door, chatting with Marcus, when he locked eyes with her. “Hey,” he grinned.

“Alright, you two have fun. Clarke, remember your curfew.” She blinked a few times at Marcus. Normally, he was the fun one. But then again, everything with Finn really freaked him out too.

“Eleven. I know,” she said, giving him a pat on the arm as Bellamy held open the front door for her.

It was a surprisingly nice night outside. Warmer than she’d expect this early in spring. No clouds in the sky.

Bellamy opened the passenger door for her, but instead of hopping in, Clarke leaned against the seat and raised her eyebrows at him. “No kiss?” she teased.

“We are still in your driveway,” he chuckled. With a groan, Clarke got into her seat. Bellamy had the biggest smirk on his lips as he shut her door.

They pulled out of her driveway and made it to the first stop sign before Bellamy leaned over and kissed her. He intended it to be short and sweet, but Clarke wouldn’t let him go. It took until a car behind them honked for them to separate.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he laughed as they drove through her neighborhood.

“Oh, you love it,” she snorted. She expected a snarky response, but Bellamy stayed oddly quiet and kept his eyes on the road. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I was thinking the old Big Lots,” he joked, and Clarke swatted his arm. “What? It’s our spot, Clarke. That would be so romantic.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. And don’t worry. I’m not taking you to Big Lots.” Bellamy waited until he hit a red light to look over at her. “Also, you look beautiful.”

It shouldn’t catch her off guard. Bellamy told her that all the time. It was his favorite response to “tell me something” and words he said as casually as if he were making an observation about the weather. But it still made something flutter in her stomach and made her cheeks grow warm every time.

“Thanks,” she whispered. His free hand reached for hers and held onto it even as the light turned green.

There was this park outside of town. Clarke had forgotten all about it. She used to go as a kid, but that was before they built a newer one by her house. This one was all run down, pretty much vacant at any hour of the day.

With the exception of tonight because this was where Bellamy took her.

“I was thinking you’d take me to the movies again or something,” Clarke said as they hopped out of the truck. Bellamy grabbed a few blankets from the back seat and threw them into the bed of the truck.

“There are people at the movies, Clarke. And we don’t like people.” Clarke snorted so loud that Bellamy stopped to laugh. She scrunched her nose up at him, but he just leaned down to kiss it. God, it was hard to be annoyed with him when he did stuff like that.

“Sounds more like you just wanted to cuddle with me,” she teased. For a second, he looked like he was about to snap back with a witty retort. But instead, he just picked her up and sat her down on the edge of the truck before hopping up himself.

They got situated with two blankets beneath them and one on top. Clarke had a leg tucked between Bellamy’s and her face buried in his neck. It wasn’t that different than how he’d hold her in her room while she had that concussion… minus Marcus calling up the stairs every fifteen minutes to ask how she’s doing.

When Bellamy started playing with her hand, Clarke rested her cheek on his chest so she could watch. There was something so gentle about how he touched her hand, something that made her stomach flip whenever she saw it. His fingers trailed up and down her palms and slowly traced over her fingers. He’d draw these little circles into the back of her hand or into her wrist, almost mindlessly. Between that and listening to Bellamy’s steady heartbeat, Clarke could fall asleep right now. This was exactly what she imagined each night when she would wrap his hoodie tight around her and think about him being there.

Clarke tilted her head up to look at him, and Bellamy was already staring at her with a half-smile on his lips. “What?”

“You look happy.”

“I am happy,” she whispered. It felt weird to admit. But somehow, despite everything, Clarke Griffin was. Just happy and stupidly in love.

There was that word again, speeding up her heartbeat while also making her stomach drop. She tried to ignore it.

“Are you happy?”

“Always am when I’m with you.” Her heart stuttered at his words. She craned her neck up toward him. His half-smile turned full as his hand slid up her neck and into her hair. Bellamy’s thumb settled just below her ear and tapped gently a few times while he closed the distance between them.

It felt more like an inhale than a kiss. Like they were both too eager to breathe each other in. It wasn’t one of those rushed ones on the stage after lunch where they were scared someone was going to walk in on them. And it wasn’t one of the chaste ones they stole before and after school. This kiss didn’t even feel like a kiss. It felt like melting into him.

They didn’t move for a moment. Just let their mouths rest against each other. Feeling his labored breaths against her lips sent chills down her spine. When Clarke opened her eyes, Bellamy’s eyes were already on hers with a soft expression that made something warm pool in her stomach.

Clarke moved first, parting her lips with a quiet sigh. His fingers threaded through her hair as he met her kiss. His tongue pressed between her lips. As soon as he found hers, Bellamy’s hum echoed in her mouth.

She held onto the back of his neck and pulled him with her when she rolled onto her back, their lips never once parting. When Bellamy’s weight first settled onto her, Clarke waited for the panic to seize her mind. It did when Roan tried to press her against the fridge, after all. This should have reminded her of Finn too and sent her into a panic attack.

But it was so… comforting. Like having his hoodie wrapped around her. His weight felt good on her. Made her feel safe and secure, surrounded by someone she loves.

Clarke’s arms wrapped around his neck as they kissed, trying to pull him as close to her as possible. She just couldn’t get Bellamy close enough.

Bellamy was the one to break the kiss. His lips traveled to her cheek while his fingers traced over her ear. Clarke tilted her head up, exposing her neck to him. Bellamy hesitated for some reason, but after Clarke squirmed a bit beneath him, his lips finally touched that ticklish spot below her jaw.

“Is this okay?” he whispered into her skin.

“Yeah,” she sighed, arching up into his kisses to her throat. She wasn’t sure why he asked. Bellamy kissed her there all the time.

After a beat, Clarke’s eyes flew open. Bellamy hadn’t kissed her there since Finn strangled her. No one had touched her neck since that day. How did she forget that?

There’s a part of her that thinks this should feel wrong. It was too soon after Finn assaulted her. She shouldn’t be this comfortable this quickly.

But she is comfortable. Safe and warm… and excited, somehow. Clarke wanted Bellamy, and for once, that wasn’t a scary thing.

His lips moved lower. They were featherlight kisses, nothing like the hard, messy ones he peppered against her throat before Finn hurt her.

Clarke wove her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, but his kisses were still too gentle… like she was some fragile thing. She wanted those hard, dizzying kisses back. Finn didn’t get to take those from her too.

“You’re not gonna break me,” she whispered. Bellamy’s head popped up and his brows were furrowed. “You don’t have to be gentle.”

His jaw clicked and his eyes dropped. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Their conversation about that punch came flooding back, especially Bellamy’s worry about hurting her. It was laughable to imagine Bellamy ever hurting her. Clarke knew he wasn’t capable of it. He’s so careful with her.

Clarke cupped his cheek with her hand. She loved running her fingers over the clusters of freckles on his cheeks. She had been too busy in the past few weeks to slow down enough to do it, but now she’s all caught up and can enjoy feeling his skin beneath her fingertips.

“You won’t,” she promised.

There were very few certainties for Clarke. She didn’t know if Finn was coming back. She didn’t know if Wallace would be on her side this time or not. And she didn’t know if she would be safe after the school year was over.

But she did know two things. First, she loved Bellamy Blake, as terrifying as that was. And second, he would rather die than hurt her.

Bellamy’s lips felt like heaven on her throat. Messy and wet yet determined. Like he wanted her.

She couldn’t feel Finn’s hands on her neck, even when her mind drifted back to that day. All she could feel was Bellamy’s frantic kisses and his labored breathing.

She didn’t even realize that she was pulling his hand down until she felt his palm rest against her throat. No pressure or squeezing, just hovering over her skin. Bellamy’s lips paused, and she could feel his confusion. But she just interlaced her fingers with his and kept his palm against her neck until he started kissing down to her collarbone.

His hand didn’t scare her. Even as it rested where Finn’s had slammed into her. It was like feeling Bellamy’s body weight on her again. Something primal pooled all hot in her chest, making her feel warm, safe, wanted, and protected all at once.

“Bell,” she whispered, but her voice sounded so high and different. When Bellamy looked up at her with those deep, warm eyes, she forgot what she wanted to say. She pulled him up to kiss her, and he laughed a little as their lips touched.

She wanted him to touch her again. Where… she wasn’t quite sure. But his hands didn’t stray as they kissed. It didn’t matter how wet and dirty their kisses got or how desperate he seemed for more… his hands stayed right where they were.

Maybe it was like their first kiss where he wanted it but was waiting on her. Bellamy always aired on the side of caution with Clarke, not wanting to push her too far.

His lips slowed as Clarke guided his hand down her neck. Her eyes fluttered open so she could watch his. He wasn’t watching her move his hand. He was looking into her eyes with a mix of want and confusion behind his.

“Please,” she whispered as she slid his hand over her breast. Her hand remained over his, and she guided him into squeezing. His pupils appeared blown, his jaw slack. Slowly, and without Clarke’s hand guiding him, Bellamy gave her a gentle, experimental squeeze.

Clarke sucked in a shallow breath when he squeezed again, this time harder. A small moan fell off her lips.

“You like this?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. Shit, she liked his voice like that.

“Yeah.” He added more pressure, his thumb flicking over where her nipple was poking through the thin fabric of her bra.

Bellamy swallowed, and Clarke watched his Adam’s apple bob. She tilted her head up and pressed a kiss to it. “Fuck.” His voice sounded so wrecked and desperate as she kissed up his throat, finding the same spot below his jaw that always made Clarke squirm if he kissed her there. She barely applied any pressure before a low growl escaped his throat. “Shit, baby.”

“Baby?” She almost laughed. That nickname seemed too cliché for Bellamy to ever break it out. But the laugh died in her throat when she realized how much she liked it.

“Want me to call you something else?” he asked with genuine concern, and Clarke just shook her head.

“No, call me that again.”

His cocky smirk broke out in full force before he rested his lips at her ear. “Baby,” he whispered, giving her breast a hard squeeze as he did. Clarke gripped at his curls and held in a moan. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

That word was like a light switch being flipped on. Clarke pulled him to her lips and kissed him as hard as she could. Their kisses were wet and frantic, desperate in a way that left her breathless and relying on him to help her breathe again.

Eventually, they found their way back to lying on their sides, facing each other. The kisses slowed. Bellamy’s hand returned to her cheek. His thumb made slow swipes against her skin and lips. Clarke kept her hand on his neck, keeping him close. Bellamy’s lips were red and bruised. Hers were probably no better.

“Tell me something,” she whispered as Bellamy pushed her hair behind her ear. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, and his eyes kept flickering up to hers before looking away. “What?”

This time, he really looked at her, his eyes all warm and gentle like they always were when he was looking at her. But there was something else she couldn’t place.

“Bell?”

He ducked his head and shook it slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Um, I can’t think of anything.” Clarke scrunched her nose up. “Okay, fine, um.” His eyes fell shut as he thought, and Clarke snuck another kiss to his cheek. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” she giggled.

“Distracting me.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll stop being a distraction,” she sighed as she tried to roll away. Bellamy pulled her tighter against him and squeezed her sides until she was squirming with laughter.

She giggled into his lips as he kissed her, smiling so hard it hurt.


	20. Chapter 20

“Why you wearing a sweatshirt? It’s warm out,” Murphy asked, popping a French fry into his mouth.

“I’m cold.”

“So, it’s not to hide that hickey?” he snorted, and Bellamy tugged the sweatshirt up to hide it better. Never in his life has he had this specific problem. Sure, he had gotten hickeys before but never as dark as this one. With his complexion, they usually weren’t noticeable. But as it turns out, Clarke Griffin was really good at giving hickeys. And he can’t even be mad about it because he kind of asked for it.

“On a scale of one to ten, how not cool are you gonna be about this?” Bellamy sighed.

Murphy grinned up at Clarke as she set her tray down. Luckily, Clarke knew how to cover up her hickeys. It almost made him sad that he couldn’t see them with all that makeup covering them. “Why is he smiling like that?” she laughed as she plopped down beside Bellamy. He gave her knee a squeeze under the table, and Murphy just propped his head up between his hands.

“You two are adorable,” he snickered. Clarke shot Bellamy a confused look as she took a sip of her milk.

“He knows about the hickey,” Bellamy sighed, and Clarke pressed her lips together to hide her smirk. She looked a little too proud of herself. “And it’s not like you’ve never shown up to school with hickeys up and down your neck,” Bellamy said to Murphy.

“Yeah, but you don’t really care about my love life. But I’m sort of invested in this whole thing now,” he explained, gesturing between Bellamy and Clarke. “I’ve had a front row seat throughout the whole ‘will they, won’t they’ part and now I’m just waiting on you two to start screwing.”

Clarke choked on her milk and Bellamy kicked him under the table. He rubbed Clarke’s back while she coughed. “You’re such a dick,” he told Murphy.

“She doesn’t think I’m a dick, right Clarke?”

“No, you are,” Clarke said before coughing again. “At least wait until I’m not drinking something to say shit like that.”

“Where is the fun in that?”

Eventually, Murphy got tired of teasing them and conversation drifted to soccer for some reason. Bellamy wasn’t really listening. He just kept stroking his fingers over her knee and waiting for her to finish eating so they could sneak off.

They didn’t even come up with an excuse for leaving early this time. There wasn’t a point. Murphy knew exactly what they were doing.

His lips were on hers as soon as the stage door shut behind them. Clarke giggled into his mouth.

“Shut up. I missed you,” he huffed.

“You saw me Saturday,” she reminded before kissing him back.

It was only Monday. Bellamy shouldn’t be so starved to kiss her. God knows he did enough of it on Saturday night. But this was just how he was now… constantly craving Clarke. He couldn’t stop touching her, kissing her, and holding her. And it didn’t help that there were three words burning on the tip of his tongue.

He should have told her on Saturday. That was his whole plan, after all. Bellamy had every word planned out. It was going to be perfect. The moment was there, and Bellamy choked. He was too overwhelmed by how she touched him and let him touch her, and even though his thoughts were screaming them, Bellamy didn’t say them. And now, he’s fighting every second not to blurt them out.

“Still missed you,” he told her. Clarke gripped the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled him down for a kiss. She led him back to the wall, moaning happily when pressed himself against her.

Sneaking back here to kiss his girl was his favorite part of the day. They hardly spoke, but the way they touched said things that words really couldn’t. Clarke does this thing where her fingers trace mindless shapes and designs into his neck while they kiss, and it feels heavenly. And then, there are those happy little sighs that fall off her lips whenever he runs his fingers through her hair.

But his favorite thing is the way she blushes. It only happens when Clarke gets a little too eager and Bellamy is caught off guard. She’ll pull away suddenly, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. Like she thinks Bellamy would ever deny her anything she wanted.

Clarke covered the hand that was resting at her waist and began pulling it up. Bellamy smirked against her lips, still remembering her beautiful moans from Saturday night when they last did this. Except this time, she led his hand under her shirt.

Bellamy froze when his fingertips first felt the soft expanse of her stomach. His eyes jerked open, and there was that blush he loved so much. Her sudden shyness does something to him, makes him want to envelop her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he let his hand resume. His eyes stayed focused on hers… at least until he first felt the lace of her bra and then shut his eyes as he cursed. He’d be imagining Clarke in only that bra when he woke up hard tomorrow morning.

Her heavy breast fits perfectly in his hand. He knew it would. Despite his best intentions, he had thought about this enough. But his imagination left out how her quiet intake of breath would make his heart stammer or the way her eyes would flutter shut in pleasure as he squeezed the breast.

“This good, baby?” he whispered, watching the corners of her mouth turn up at that endearment.

“Yeah.” The breathiness of her voice would surely kill him.

Bellamy kissed her again, this time wet and slow. His other hand slid under her shirt too, letting his hands squeeze both her breasts while his tongue traced her lips.  He kept wanting to ask her if she liked this, but her moans into his mouth were more than answering that question, so he didn’t.

They kept at it until the bell rang. Clarke’s lips were bright red and her face was flushed while she tucked her shirt back into her uniform skirt.

“Was that okay?” he asked. Clarke bit down on her bottom lip and nodded. Then, her hand found his and they made their way to Spanish.

His skin buzzed as they walked down the hallway. His cheeks burned as he fought off his smile. Touching her just felt so good. Didn’t matter where he touched her. If it was her hand or her back or whatever. Just touching her flooded his body with warmth.

“Next time,” she whispered as they turned the corner to their class, “will you go under my bra?”

Bellamy cursed under his breath as they walked in the door. Murphy was smirking at them, but no one else paid them any attention.

“Yeah,” he choked out before reaching his desk. For the next forty-six minutes, Bellamy did not absorb a single thing Sydney said.

Her words kept echoing in his mind. That nervous yet aroused voice going straight to his cock. And he just couldn’t get it out of his head.

All day, it lingered. Every time he looked at her, he heard her breathy voice or felt the ghost of her lips on his throat. When she grabbed his hand between classes, his mind was flooded with how her breath went shaky as she led his hand up to her breast.

Bellamy never thought things between them would go so fast. He expected a glacial pace, maybe never going further than kissing her.

In the grand scheme of things, this was slow for Bellamy. At least, compared to Gina and Roma. But it’s not slow for Clarke, not when she and Finn took an entire year to do something more than kissing. Never in a million years would Bellamy predict that Clarke would be leaving hickeys on his throat and asking him to feel her up this soon.

… not that he was complaining. He loves her and wants to touch her any way she’ll let him. It just surprised him.

He kept thinking about it all day, wondering if it was just a matter of trust. Maybe on some level, she didn’t trust Finn back then. But she knows Bellamy won’t hurt her and will back off if she wants him to, so maybe she’s more comfortable with this kind of thing now.

Clarke called him earlier that night than normal. “No family dinner?” he asked, flipping his history book shut.

“Not tonight. Marcus got called away and my mom was tired,” she explained. “This okay? I can call back at eight if you want.”

“No, this is okay.”

“Good, because I missed you,” she whispered, and he could practically hear her smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I missed you too, baby.” Bellamy didn’t realize what he said until he heard Clarke’s sharp intake of breath. “Tell me something.”

“I like it when you call me that,” she murmured.

“Baby?” He loved the way her breath quickened whenever he said it.

“Shit.” Bellamy bit down on his fist, hard.

“Tell me something.”

“No, it’s your turn.”

Fuck. All his thoughts were way too sexual right now. His cock had begun to stir again despite hours trying to cool off. All because of the way Clarke breathed when he called her baby.

He went for his default. “You’re beautiful.” And she is, a little too beautiful with those gorgeous baby blues and skin so soft he can’t stop touching it.

“Bell,” she whined.

“You are. So fucking beautiful, baby.”

“Bellamy.” Her voice was so warm and high, like it got when he kissed her just below her jaw.

“Tell me something.” Bellamy locked his door and laid down on top of his bed, not even bothering to tug his shoes off.

“Um, after you dropped me off on Saturday, I did something I’ve never done before.”

“Which is?” He could hear feet padding on her end before Clarke flopped into her bed. “Come on, you gotta tell me.”

“I, uh, touched myself.”

Bellamy dropped the phone and scrambled to pick it back up again. “Really?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Yeah.”

His cock twitched.

“How’d that feel?”

“Really good.” Fuck. Just an hour after he littered Clarke’s neck with hickeys, she went to her bedroom and touched herself… which was exactly what Bellamy did too. “I don’t think I had a… you know.” Bellamy threw his head back on the pillow with a small smirk. Clarke just brazenly admitted to masturbating but got shy around the word _orgasm_. “But like, it felt really good.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You know what I was thinking about.”

“Tell me, baby.” Bellamy’s hand rubbed over his stirring cock before he realized what he was doing.

“You.” How could a single word be so hot and sweet at the same time? All soft and loving, yet simultaneously the most erotic word he ever heard. “Like you kissing my neck and touching my boobs. And you touching me.”

“Fuck,” he growled. “Clarke, do you want me to touch you like that?”

“I think so, but could we go slow?”

“Of course,” he stuttered out, his throat going dry. “Tell me anything you want, and I’ll give it to you. Like if you want me to touch you or kiss you some—”

“What if I wanted to have sex?”

“With me?” Bellamy had no idea why those were the two stupid words he stuttered out.

“Yeah, with you,” Clarke snorted.

“You want to have sex with me?”

“I think so. Not now, but eventually.” After a beat, she whispered, “Would you want to? Eventually, I mean.”

“Oh God, yes,” he blurted out and was relieved to be met with a small laugh. “Sorry, I just, uh…” Bellamy buried his face into his pillow for a moment, trying to think of something coherent to say. He went with the honest truth. “I just want you, Clarke. I always want you. You’re driving me insane.”

“Well, you’re driving me insane, so I guess we’re even,” Clarke said, clearly meaning for it to come off as a teasing remark but it was a little too heavy for that. “So, one day, we’re gonna have sex?”

“If you want to, then yeah.”

“I want to,” she whispered.

“This isn’t because of what Murphy said earlier or because you think you have to—”

“Bellamy, I want you,” she interrupted, knocking the breath from his lungs. “It kind of scares me how much I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Me neither.”

“Does that scare you?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But that’s more because I’m not sure of what I’m doing. Worried that I’ll fuck this up somehow or hurt you—”

“You’d never hurt me,” she said confidently, and a smile tugged at his lips.

“Still—”

“No one has ever made me feel as safe as you.”

Bellamy pulled his pillow into his arms and gave it a tight squeeze. “You mean that?” he whispered.

“Of course. Why do you think I wear your hoodies and want to listen to your voice while I fall asleep?” He needed to kiss her right now. Pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless and tell her how desperately he loves her. “It’s just… when you’re nearby, I know I’m gonna be okay. The world is less scary when I’m with you.”

“Clarke.” His voice breaks on her name, and he can’t even think of what to say. Thankfully, she kept talking.

“I’ve never really had that before. That’s what freaks me out. Not you. Never you,” she whispered.

“I wish you were here,” he told her. “I wanna hold you.”

“Is that all you want?” she teased.

“Right this second, yes. Though I can’t imagine that’d last long if you were here,” he said, and Clarke giggled. “But yeah, right now, all I want is you in my arms.”

Clarke made a strange noise, almost like a groan muffled into her pillow. “Bell,” she whined.

“What?”

“You can’t say shit like that.” She made the noise again.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to be in your arms and it’s not fair that I’m not right now,” she huffed, and Bellamy chuckled quietly. “Ugh, why aren’t you here?”

“Why aren’t _you_ here?” Bellamy countered.

“Point taken, but I still don’t like it,” she sighed, and he could hear her pout through the phone. “Whose turn is it?”

“Mine, probably.”

“Okay, tell me something.”

“I really don’t want to do Calculus.”

“Oh, fuck. I still haven’t done it,” she groaned. With a sigh, Bellamy pushed himself up from his bed and moved toward his desk. “Bell, I don’t wanna do homework.”

“The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can crawl back into bed and talk until you fall asleep,” he chuckled.

“Fine,” she huffed. He waited until Clarke was done shuffling around in her room before he started. They worked like that for a few hours, only talking occasionally when one of them had a snide remark or an actual question.

Bellamy was already back in bed by the time Clarke started packing her backpack for the morning. He laid there silently, listening to her get changed for bed and brushing her teeth. It all felt so intimate despite them doing this every night. Like he was there with her.

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” he asked as her footsteps grew closer to the phone.

“Left.”

“That’s the side I sleep on.” There’s an indention in his mattress to prove it. Maybe he could learn to sleep on the right side if he ever got to sleep in the same bed as Clarke. “Do you sleep on your side?”

“No, stomach. Why?”

“Just trying to picture what it’d be like if you were here.”

“Describe it to me,” Clarke giggled. She probably thought he was being ridiculous. And maybe he was. But it made him happy to think about.

“I think I could sleep on the right side of the bed,” he sighed. “Though I might sneak over to your side anyway.”

“Nope. Not allowed.”

“Not even to hold you?” he laughed.

Clarke yawned. “Okay, I’ll allow it this once.”

“I can’t imagine us staying on either side of the bed. I can’t be that close to you and not be touching you somehow,” he explained. “Maybe you could curl up on my side, rest your head on my chest like you always do?” Clarke hummed her affirmation. “It’d be easier to kiss you like that.”

Bellamy let his eyes fall shut, but he kept talking. Describing his random snoring, though Clarke probably already knew from all the nights he was left on speakerphone. He debated blanket thickness, mostly because he was always so hot but Clarke seemed to bury herself in blankets on her bed.

The more he talked without response, the more certain he was that Clarke had already fallen asleep. He kept talking anyway, whispering whatever popped into his head until his eyelids grew too heavy and he was too tired to bother finishing his sentences.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: I have finished writing this whole fic.
> 
> Bad news: I have finished writing this whole fic. 
> 
> Good news: This means I can guarantee the last two chapters will be on schedule.
> 
> Bad news: One week from today, this story will be over.

“How did you even get this much beer?” Clarke grumbled as she lugged the next case into Wells’ house. He came back for spring break, and true to form, his first priority was to throw another party.

“Roan’s friend,” Wells huffed, dropping his case onto the counter and gesturing for Clarke to follow suit.

“Wait, is Roan going to be here?” Well conveniently left that part out when he pitched the party to Clarke. He shot her an apologetic look and shrugged. “Well, this is gonna be awkward.” Clarke checked her phone. Bellamy would show up in two hours to help set up, so maybe she could give him a heads up before he ran into Roan. It probably wasn’t a big deal. Roan likely didn’t remember her, and it’s not like Bellamy cared about that kiss.

The two of them got to work packing the coolers and taking them onto the deck. Occasionally, they’d stumble onto an old inside joke, but for the most part, they didn’t talk. It wasn’t until Clarke was upstairs getting her makeup on that a real conversation started.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Wells asked, sitting on the side of the bathtub.

“Talk about what?”

“Finn.” Clarke’s eyes fell shut. The only times she heard his name anymore were when in therapy or when Diyoza was giving her an update. No one else uttered his name around her. Either because they were too scared to upset her or were like Bellamy and Murphy and knew that she’d talk about him when and if she wanted to.

“What about Finn?” she sighed before packing her eyeliner back into her makeup bag. It got all over her hands, so she had to rinse her fingers off before doing anything else.

“You call me and tell me that he strangled you, but you never really explained how that happened. I was really freaked out. I mean, I know you are okay now, but—”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell you,” she interrupted. While she applied her foundation, she explained, “I was driving to school—”

“Wait, you’re driving again?”

“I was,” she corrected. Clarke hadn’t gotten back in that car since Finn attacked her. Wasn’t sure she ever would again. “Anyway, I saw him behind me. It freaked me out, but I just thought we were going to the same place so it was probably an accident. When I got out of the car, he came after me.” Clarke glanced over at Wells, his wide eyes making her stomach feel uneasy. “How much detail do you want?” she whispered.

His head dropped and he stared down at his hands. “None, I guess. Unless you want to share them.”

“I don’t.”

He was silent for a few minutes as Clarke applied the powder and got her mascara on. As she was packing up her makeup bag, Wells asked, “Do you know why he did it?”

“Because he’s an abusive asshole,” Clarke muttered, though that felt like an extreme oversimplification when she thought about his home environment and mental health problems. There were layers to it, layers that made it harder to explain. The same layers that made it so hard for her to get out in the first place. It’d be so much easier if Clarke could just call him evil and be done with it. But she loved him once. There were things about him that had once made her happy and made her want to look for the good and for the excuses.

It wasn’t as simple as him being some abusive asshole. But Clarke could never say that out loud… not unless she wanted everyone around her to remind her that she was manipulated and that the only reason she is capable of empathizing with him is because of that manipulation. She fucking hated that. It felt like an erasure of her ability to empathize.

For as long as she could remember, she had been drawn to the “bad guys.” Her heart broke for Erik in Phantom of the Opera even though she knew what kind of violence he was capable of. At theater camp, she always wanted to play the villains because she liked studying what made them tick. When she was little, she would act out The Little Mermaid with her Barbies and give Ursula her own backstory involving a tragic love story that led to a quest for revenge because Clarke couldn’t fathom a character that was just the “bad guy” for the sake of being bad.

It shouldn’t surprise her that at seventeen, she would be looking for an explanation for why Finn hurt her instead of just writing him off as an abusive monster.

“But like, why now? I thought he had been leaving you alone,” Wells said, and Clarke snapped back into focus.

“He was.”

“So, did you say or do something to—”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Clarke snapped, her voice so loud it echoed throughout the bathroom.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s how it fucking sounded.” She gripped the side of the sink and sucked in a shaky breath. There were a hundred explanations for why Finn got to that moment, but Clarke wasn’t one of them. She was the breaking point, sure, but she wasn’t the why.

When she looked over at Wells, he had his lips pressed together and was looking up at her with a nervous look in his eyes. She knew he didn’t mean it like that. It was Wells, after all. She didn’t need to get mad at him over nothing, so she tried to let it go.

“I found out that he was trying to get back with this other girl, one who was like in love with him a few years ago,” Clarke explained as calmly as she could. Yeah, she didn’t need to get mad. She was fine. This wasn’t worth upsetting Wells over. “So, I warned her and told her what he did to me.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” he huffed.

Clarke blinked a few times. The answer was obvious, yet Wells was talking to her like she was stupid. And Clarke knew it was a bad idea to do anything to draw Finn’s attention, but letting someone else get hurt was a worse idea. Despite everything that happened because of that Facebook message to a girl who never wrote back, Clarke would do it all again. Happily, even.

So, Clarke stepped out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. “Clarke!” he called out. She wasn’t sure where she was going. She had no way home until Bellamy got here. “What is going on with you?”

“What is going on with you?” she snapped, turning around to see him standing in the middle of the hallway with a confused expression on his face. “You said you wanted to be there for me, but in the last five minutes, you’ve asked me if I did anything to make Finn strangle me and then implied it was my fault when I told you about Raven!”

His mouth snapped shut.

“I already get enough of this shit from Wallace. I don’t need it from you too.”

“You’re mad at me,” he whispered. Part of her wanted to argue with that and insist that she wasn’t… but that was a lie. Clarke was mad, and for once, she was gonna let herself be mad.

“Yeah, because you’re being a dick,” she huffed. It felt good to say. Not great, because it was Wells and she loved him. But better than having to bury all these feelings deep down and pray they never found their way out.

Wells leaned against the wall and looked down at the ground. “I am, aren’t I?” he muttered. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Clarke took in a deep breath and slowly walked back toward him. Her back rested against the wall across from him. When he looked up at her, all the tension in her chest finally released.

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I wasn’t thinking… I just, fuck, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t say shit like that,” she snorted.

“Yes, ma’am.” Clarke laughed at the little salute he gave her, and whatever anger had been left dissipated. She pushed off the wall to give him a clumsy hug before heading to his guest room where Clarke had thrown her overnight bag.

“Alright, I gotta go get hot for my boyfriend,” she joked.

Wells peeped his head through the doorway as Clarke dug through to find the skirt she packed. “I’m glad you guys are dating, but also, I’m guessing it’s not going to be as fun to tease you by calling him your boyfriend now, huh?”

Clarke snorted. “I’m sure you’ll find another way to embarrass me,” she chuckled.

 

* * *

 

Roan absolutely did recognize her but mercifully only gave her a small wink before chasing after some tall brunette across the room. She didn’t really know the rest of the people at the party. Sure, she went to middle school with most of them. But they were all a grade ahead of her, and Clarke didn’t know most of their names anymore. She probably had their signatures in her seventh-grade yearbook or something.

So, she stuck to Wells’ side, practically bouncing every time the front door opened. Bellamy was running late. Octavia apparently forgot her toothbrush at home, and Bellamy had to turn around to go get it for her and bring it to Niylah’s house.

When Bellamy actually came in through the door, Clarke skipped up to him and slammed her lips into his. “Hey,” he chuckled against her mouth.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Wells joined in from behind her, and Clarke groaned into Bellamy’s shoulder. “How are you, Bellamy?”

“I’m good,” Bellamy laughed, wrapping his arm around Clarke’s waist. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s cool. So, we got beer out in the coolers on the porch…” Wells started listing where everything was located, but Bellamy didn’t seem to be listening. No, his eyes seemed to be caught on Clarke. More specifically, her outfit.

It’s not like Clarke was showing that much skin. Her black skirt was probably the same length as her uniform skirt when it rode up… just tighter. She’ll admit the tank top was a little scandalous, more cleavage than she’s ever shown off around Bellamy. Clarke almost changed before the party started, second guessing the whole outfit.

But now that she saw how Bellamy was looking at her, she was so grateful she didn’t change.

“Bell?” she whispered. The tips of his ears turned red as he realized that he had been caught staring.

“Yeah?” His voice was a little rough, which sent a chill up her spine.

“Oh, and there are also a few wine coolers in the fridge,” Wells added in, completely unaware of their conversation.

“Cool, thanks,” Bellamy said without missing a beat. His fingers fluttered against her waist as he guided her toward the couch. Most people were in the kitchen or outside, only a few people hanging around the living room area.

“You okay?” she asked, suppressing a grin.

“Uh huh.” His eyes flickered down to her chest before averting them quickly. “You look nice,” he stuttered out.

Clarke stopped walking and grabbed his hand to force him to stop too. “Just nice?” she asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.

Bellamy looked around the room before leaning down so that his lips rested just over her ear. “You look like you’re trying to kill me, baby,” he whispered, sending a shiver down her spine.

“So, you…” He kissed just behind her ear and then moved lower. “You, uh, like my outfit?” She tried to tease him, but her voice came out breathless as she felt his tongue swipe just below her jaw.

“Yeah.” His breath was hot against her skin. Belatedly, Clarke remembered to look around to see if anyone was looking, but everyone was too busy dancing or playing a drinking game in the corner. Blushing, Clarke pulled Bellamy down to the couch. When she tried to bury her face into the crook of his neck, he pulled her back and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “But really, are you trying to kill me?”

Clarke kept her legs on his lap and her head on his shoulder for the first half hour or so. His hands would stroke up and down her calves while they talked to Wells’ friends, but as soon as they left to get another drink, his hand slid up past her knee and his mouth was hot and insistent on hers.

Then, Wells decided to sit with them. Clarke hopped onto Bellamy’s lap, claiming that it was just to make room for him, but she didn’t slide off once he left. She liked the way his hands were all over her and how she could feel his chest rumble every time he spoke.

Clarke hadn’t had anything to drink, yet she felt the same kind of buzz she had at the last party she was at with Bellamy. Her smile probably looked about as drunk. His hands felt so good on her thighs. His lips felt even better behind her ear.

It got a little too crowded, so Clarke jumped at the opportunity to find somewhere else for her and Bellamy to sneak off to. Bellamy whined a little as she slid off his lap, but a knowing smirk formed on his lips as she pulled him to his feet.

“Where we going?” he chuckled.

“Somewhere quieter,” she whispered before leaning up to kiss him. A loud whistle broke them apart, and when she looked over, Roan had his red solo cup raised in a mock salute before downing its contents. Bellamy’s hand tightened on her waist. He stayed pressed up against her backside as they wove their way toward the stairs.

As they walked past Roan, Clarke pretended not to notice how his eyes raked over her. It was only when Bellamy stepped closer that Roan’s gaze jerked away and he shrugged innocently. Clarke felt her cheeks burning as she tugged Bellamy up the stairs by the hand.

“Forgot to tell you that he was here,” she whispered halfway up. Bellamy just shrugged… which wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. If Finn were still her boyfriend, he’d be blowing up right now and yelling at her to get in the car. “You’re not mad, right?”

“No,” he snorted. In the hallway, Clarke leaned against the wall and pulled her to him.

“Promise?”

A small smile formed on his lips before he kissed her forehead. “I mean, I don’t really like him, but why would I get mad about that?” he chuckled. “And I’ve never really talked to the guy. I just don’t like him because he got to kiss you before I did.”

“Really?” she smirked, and he ducked his head.

“I was really jealous when you told me.” Her heart rate shouldn’t have picked up at that confession, but God, it did. “But it all worked out.” The kiss that followed was slow and soft, the gentle kind that always left her breathless.

A giggling down the hallway broke them out of the moment. With a huff, Clarke tugged him by the hand into the guest room and locked the door behind them.

“I hate people,” she muttered. Bellamy laughed as he leaned down to kiss her.

“But not me, right?”

“No, you don’t count,” she whispered against his mouth. He hummed in agreement as he kissed her again. She tiptoed to the bed and fell back, sighing happily when Bellamy pressed his weight against her.

His hands stayed on her waist, though they crept up higher than Bellamy normally allows himself. His thumb swiped just below the underwire of her bra. She held her breath, waiting for him to touch her… but his hand didn’t move any higher. “Bell,” she whined.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded more wrecked than before. Warmer, though. Clarke pulled his hand up to her breast, and he took over and squeezed the flesh. “This what you wanted, baby?”

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip. It was, but not quite. She wanted a little more.

Without saying a word, she pushed the straps of her tank top down. Her eyes met Bellamy’s, and he was holding his breath. She was too. Clarke sat up a bit, never once letting her eyes slip from Bellamy’s, and began unhooking her strapless bra.

Heat pooled in her stomach once she discarded the bra and Bellamy’s gaze dropped to her chest. His eyes were dark yet warm, piercing in a way that probably would have scared her a few months ago. But not now.

Clarke didn’t have to lead his hands this time. His palms hovered over her breasts for a moment, his eyes flickering up to meet hers. It was in moments like this that Clarke wasn’t sure Bellamy could be real. No one was ever this gentle. Yet, here he was, making sure she’s okay with this even though she has been begging him for this.

Her eyes fell shut as soon as his warm hands enveloped her breasts. She gasped at the touch. His hands were tentative, slow. Cautiously kneading at her tits. But all of it—the touch, the sound of his breathing, the way his hands covered each breast—felt heavenly. Perfect. Like the moment you realize which pieces of the puzzle go together.

Bellamy’s weight fell against her again as he kissed her lips, his tongue diving into her mouth in rhythm with his hand squeezing her breast. His body surrounded her like a blanket, and Clarke couldn’t pull him tight enough to her. Her fingers wove through his curls, tugging him closer and closer until she couldn’t anymore.

“I want you,” she breathed against his lips before her tongue slipped past them.

A strangled noise came from the back of his throat. His hand left her breast to slide up her neck and grip her face, pulling her off his lips. Clarke tried to lean forward to kiss him again, but he held her there, letting his dark eyes bore into hers.

“Bell?” she whispered, sliding her hand over his. Bellamy rolled them onto their sides, and Clarke whined at the loss of his weight on her. His thumb slid over her lips gently. “What’s going on?”

“I want to tell you something,” he sighed. “But I don’t… I’m not sure how I’m supposed to.” His eyes fell shut. “You know I’m not good at this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Boyfriend stuff.”

Clarke snorted. “Yes, you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just guessing as I go.” There was more to it than that, but only Bellamy would consider following that big heart of his guessing as he goes. “I want to do everything right with you, and I’m so worried that I’ll mess something like this up.”

“Something like what?”

Instead of answering her right away, he pressed a hard kiss to her lips. They still dragged against her mouth as he said, “You’re so perfect, Clarke.”

“Oh my God,” she snorted.

“No, listen.” He opened and shut his mouth a few times, his brows knitted in frustration. “You are… everything. To me, I mean.” When his eyes met hers again, his entire face relaxed. After a beat, his eyes darted away and he blinked rapidly. “I, uh… fuck.”

Clarke trailed her fingers over his cheeks, trying to ease the tension in him. Bellamy seemed so nervous all the sudden, which wasn’t like him… except on their first date and for their first kiss.

“Sorry, uh, what I’m trying to say is that what I feel for you is stronger than how I’ve ever felt before,” he stuttered out.

She blinked a few times. Was he trying to say what she thought he was trying to say?

“And I probably should have said this sooner, but so much was going on. I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing, but that seemed like bad timing.”

Bellamy loves her. He actually loves her.

Clarke blinked back tears as she slid closer to him, resting her hand over his chest. His quick heartbeat strummed against her fingers, and it wasn’t lost on her that she was the reason his heart was pounding.

Their eyes met again. His lips struggled to form his next words and Clarke held her breath as she waited for them. His fingers pushed her tears away and he whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. “I promise. You were saying?” He looked like he wanted to protest, so Clarke pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Please.” She just needed to hear it.

“I love you.”

The words shouldn’t surprise her. Clarke had been thinking them for a while now. Only in the quiet moments, never really letting the full weight of it wash over her. The feeling lingered in everything they said and did. In the little hand squeezes and stolen kisses. The bad jokes and the half-asleep mutterings they offered each other over the phone. Those three words weren’t a surprise.

But the reverential way he said them was. Gentle, like everything with Bellamy, yet full of want and longing. His warm, smooth voice sending chills up her arms and leaving her with goosebumps. The soft eyes that were simultaneously screaming the words.

Bellamy loved her, and that in of itself wasn’t a surprise. On some deeper level, she knew all along. She could feel it with every single thing he did. The surprise was that somehow, even after everything, Clarke was still capable of being loved and not scared of loving him in return.

The tears burned hot against her cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth blooming in her chest as she tilted her head up to kiss him.

“I love you,” she told him. “I love you, I love you.” She kept murmuring it between kisses as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Each time she said it, she felt lighter, like she was releasing the last and final fear that Finn had branded into her.

She is loved and still knows how to love.

Finn didn’t take that from her. No one could.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. Catch me over here crying.

“Alright, what did you do for the second one?”

“Ironically, A Doll’s House,” he admitted. No chance of forgetting that author’s name after screwing it up once. He had kicked himself enough for it that he knew using it during the AP Lit exam was a safe enough bet. He knew that one inside and out now.

Clarke snorted. “Why would you do that? You failed that essay.”

“Alright, genius, which did you use?”

“Frankenstein.”

Behind them, he could hear the rest of the seniors asking each other the same question, most kicking themselves for book choices. He wasn’t sure why any of them cared that much. Most of the fancy schools they’re going to won’t even take AP credits.

“Of course, you did,” he chuckled. “How about the third?”

Clarke didn’t answer right away. When he turned to look at her, she had stopped walking, her eyes wide and staring across the quad. He followed her gaze and spotted an out of uniform Finn Collins and his parents walking back to their car.

“Clarke,” he murmured, but she didn’t budge. A second later, Finn looked over in their direction. He was too far away for Bellamy to make out his expression. And despite Clarke being right in front of him, he couldn’t read hers either.

Whispers started behind them as student after student saw who had stepped back onto campus. Funny how quickly old habits came back.

The last few weeks had been so easy. No one bothered Clarke. Finn wasn’t on her mind. Clarke’s biggest concerns were how her mother would react when she told her she wasn’t going to prom and getting through her AP exams. Bellamy was terrified that seeing Finn would be a huge step backwards for her.

So, he tried to grab her hand. Maybe pull her back toward the gymnasium to get him out of her line of sight.

But something snapped in Clarke, and next thing he knew, he was jogging to keep up with her as she stormed toward the administration building.

“Hey, maybe we should go for a walk,” he offered breathlessly. How did someone so small move so fast?

Over by the circle, Finn was finally in the car and riding off campus. But seeing that didn’t slow Clarke down.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to talk to me,” he tried again as Clarke swung the main door open.

“I just need to talk to Wallace,” she muttered as if that would somehow soothe him.

Through the glass of the offices, he could see Diyoza sitting at her desk, cradling her head. Wallace was in his office too, frantically writing something down. His pen flew right out of his hand when Clarke swung the main door open so hard that it slammed into the wall with a loud bang.

Both their principal and headmaster tripped over themselves to meet Clarke. But before either of them could say anything, Clarke asked, “Why was Finn Collins here?”

Bellamy stayed close behind Clarke, thankful that she didn’t jerk away when his hand touched her shoulder.

Diyoza and Wallace exchanged a panicked look before Wallace said, “Right, you weren’t supposed to see him. We had timed it so that they would be here while you were in your exam, but they lingered longer than we expected.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Clarke snapped. Quietly, the secretary shooed out the students who were sitting in the office.

“Why don’t you come into my office and we can—”

“No, answer the question.” Her tone was level, almost emotionless. But her jaw was achingly tense, like it might break if she kept this up.

Wallace’s eyes drifted over to Diyoza. Coward. She pressed her lips together and took a step toward Clarke. “We asked him and his parents to come so we could discuss graduation. Don’t worry, he’s not coming back to class. He’ll be making up what he missed in the summer,” she replied, and Bellamy let out a sigh of relief. Finn wouldn’t be here to ruin the little time she had left in high school.

“You’re letting him walk at graduation, aren’t you?” Clarke asked, her voice starting to break. “He strangled me, and now you’re gonna let him sit in the row in front of me at graduation?”

Bellamy’s hands stayed on her shoulders, and Clarke leaned back against him.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Wallace said, shaking his head all sympathetically. “But this seemed like the best compromise for both of you.”

“Clarke, this was the best deal the board would accept,” Diyoza added on, though at least she had regret on her face. “It’s one day, and you only have to be in the same room as him for an hour, tops.”

“And if there’s anything you need, you just let us know,” Wallace said with a forced smile. Bellamy felt Clarke’s shoulders tense beneath his hands.

“I need an apology,” Clarke muttered.

Wallace furrowed his brows, looked at Diyoza, and then turned back to Clarke. “We could probably arrange for that. We’d need to bring in the counselor—”

“Not from Finn,” Clarke corrected, her eyes glaring daggers at Wallace.

It was like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. The silence rang loud in his ears, so loud that he was grateful when the secretary scooted her chair back and screeched the leg against the hardwood.

Wallace just stared back at her, stunned… like he had no idea what she meant. He coughed, a clearly fake cough designed to buy him some time. Then, he said, “Clarke, I am truly sorry for what has happened to you.”

Bellamy imagined his eyes weren’t much different than Clarke’s right now when he was about to punch Finn Collins.

“But not for letting it happen?”

Reflexively, Bellamy squeezed her shoulder.

“Now, hold on, that’s not—”

“Do you really think it’s not your fault too? Because I sat—”

“Clarke—”

“—in that chair in your office nine months ago—”

“—if you would just—”

“—and told you that he was going to hurt me! And what did you do to help me?”

Outside the main office, he could hear the whispering again. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see who all was watching. It didn’t matter anyway. In an hour, the entire school would know about Clarke screaming at the headmaster.

“I did what I could.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Bellamy huffed, the words slipping off his tongue before he thought better of it. Before he got the chance to backtrack, Clarke started pulling him toward the door.

Before he turned the corner, he heard Diyoza mutter, “Would it kill you to admit you fucked up?”

“Clarke, Clarke,” he kept saying as she dragged him by the hand toward her locker. Once there, he finally got a grip on her and turned her around just in time for Clarke to bury her face into his chest. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered while he wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” she mumbled. He kissed the top of her head before resting his head on top of hers.

For a while, the two of them just stood there, swaying a little in the empty hallway. Clarke’s tears were quiet yet heartbreaking. The only solace was that no one else was around to see it.

“I love you,” he told her. He preferred saying that in the happier moments, like when they were giggling on the phone or between kisses.

“I know. I love you too.” She finally popped her head up, smiling weakly despite the tears on her face. Bellamy pushed the tears aside and gave her a proper kiss.

“What can I do?”

Clarke sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Nothing, probably.” He nodded along. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do right now. Neither of them had any power over what the school decided to do. “But maybe we could do something Friday night?”

“I won’t have the truck. How about Saturday?” Her head popped up again and she nodded with a grin. “What do you want to do? Go grab something to eat or see a movie or—”

“Or,” Clarke whispered, ducking her head, “we could just drive somewhere.”

The implication made his heart stutter, and the blush on her cheeks made his throat grow dry. “Sure,” he choked out.

Ever since that first night out on his truck, things had been getting heated between them. Long, hungry make out sessions, hickeys that were a bitch to hide, shirts coming off—nothing Bellamy hadn’t done before. Except before, it wasn’t with Clarke.

It wasn’t that Bellamy didn’t like where they were headed. He was a little too eager for it. It was that Bellamy was nervous. This wasn’t some hookup with Roma or following Gina’s lead even though he had no idea what was going on. It was Clarke Griffin with the blue eyes he dreamed of every night and the laugh he’d do anything to hear. He had never done this with someone he was in love with.  Bellamy was terrified he might screw it all up.

 

* * *

 

They wasted no time getting up into the bed of the truck. Shirts were yanked off, skin pressed against skin, and Clarke’s jagged breathing sounded so beautiful. She tugged him on top of her, which always put him in a minor panic because he was scared his weight would hurt her, but she seemed to prefer it like this.

Her head tilted up, a pout forming on her lips as she exposed her neck to him. He laughed a little as he began kissing across her jaw, but his laugh died off as soon as he felt Clarke’s moan ripple across her throat. That sound made his cock stir.

Bellamy trailed kisses across her neck, careful not to leave any hickeys this time. When he reached her chest, Clarke was arching her back for him. Though she squirmed under him, Bellamy took his time examining her breasts. Her pale skin still luminous in the moonlight, the rosy pink nipples that were already hard for him. He could look at her all night.

“Bell,” she whined.

“Baby,” he purred, looking up just in time to see her gasp. He began kissing down her sternum, occasionally letting his tongue tease her skin.

His hand enveloped one breast while his mouth slowly explored the other. Kissing around her nipple, biting gently at her skin, flicking her nipple with his tongue. Kissing Clarke like this had a way of silencing his mind. No thoughts except about the beautiful girl he’s touching.

“This feel good?” he whispered as his lips dragged across her chest to give the other breast some attention.

“Uh huh.”

He took his time with her, slowly kissing and sucking at her breast until Clarke was squirming beneath him. Finally, she took his face between her hands and dragged him back up to her mouth. Her kiss was hungry, even more desperate than before.

“You good?” he teased, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Their eyes locked, and he couldn’t tell if Clarke was blushing or was just flushed from the heat.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her fingers slid over his bottom lip, her brows knitted like she was trying to figure something out.

“You want something, don’t you?” he grinned. Clarke bit down on her lip and now he was certain it was a blush. “What is it?”

She craned her neck up so she could kiss him again, this one short and sweet. He pulled off her and fell to her side, turning Clarke with him. She immediately pressed up against him, her hard nipples feeling so good against his bare chest. “Could you, um, touch me?”

“Where?” The blush grew and her eyes dropped to his chest. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to. I just—”

“No, I want to,” he stuttered out. “But are you sure?”

After a beat, she nodded. Slowly, he pushed her onto her back. Her bright blue eyes were staring up at him, excited but nervous. At least with her looking up at his face, she didn’t see how his hand shook as he fumbled with the zipper of her shorts.

Finn tried this with Clarke, she had told him once. Both consensually and nonconsensually, though Clarke hadn’t used those exact words. Even calling his assault nonconsensual was hard for her, he noticed.

Bellamy was terrified of doing this with her, even with all the conversations they’ve had about it. He didn’t want those memories of Finn flooding back. Not now. Not when Clarke has finally started to let it all go.

He stalled for a minute, letting his thumb trace circles into her stomach as he took a few deep breaths. Her eyes were still staring up at him, a little less sure than before.

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“I trust you.” She reached up for him, her soft fingers pulling him down by his chin. The kiss was slow and wet, earning a moan from the back of his throat. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered. He gave her a quick peck before propping himself up again.

He slid his hand down the expanse of her soft stomach and paused just before he reached her unzipped shorts. “Please,” she murmured. After taking a deep breath, he slid his hands inside her panties.

Her skin was soft. His cock twitched when he realized she had shaved for this. When his fingers slid over her slit, he cursed under his breath. Clarke was soaking wet.

“Baby,” he hummed, and Clarke grinded up into his hand. The blush was back on her cheeks as if embarrassed, and Bellamy pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’re all wet for me,” he whispered against her skin.

Clarke wiggled her shorts down a little, giving him more room for movement. Carefully, he pushed her folds apart while still pressing reassuring kisses to her forehead. His index found her clit, and Clarke immediately jerked against him.

“This good?” he checked, and Clarke nodded. Two fingers stroked at her clit, at first slow and soft, but as Clarke eased into it, he gave her more pressure.

The noises falling off her lips were unlike any he had ever heard from her before. Entrancing. Making him chase after them so he could hear them again. Hypnotic. Making it impossible to think of anything else. It was only when she whimpered _more_ that he began to snap back into focus.

Gently, he pressed his index finger inside her. Didn’t push in to far before pulling it back out. The dazed blue eyes from before were more focused now, watching Bellamy as he pushed inside her again. This time, deeper. Her cunt clenched around his finger. His eyes fell shut. His cock throbbed just thinking about her tightness.

“How’s this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

“Okay, I think.”

“Should I stop?”

“No, not yet.”

Bellamy resumed his movements, slowly pushing a single finger in and out of her. With each press inside her, it got easier. Before he knew it, those beautiful noises started falling off her lips again. “Want another?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” she moaned, her eyes shut. Carefully, he pressed a second finger in. Her brows knitted as he stretched her out, but the sounds falling off her lips didn’t stop. Before long, his fingers were diving in and out of her cunt and his mouth was on hers again. The kisses were sloppy, messy to the point he wasn’t sure they even were kisses. Just Clarke moaning into his mouth and Bellamy trying to swallow each of her beautiful, little sounds.

Her cunt fluttered around his fingers, and her fingers pulled hard on his hair. “That’s it,” he told her. “Let go, baby.”

Bellamy’s fingers slowed as she fell apart. Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were parted as she whimpered and moaned for him. Those gorgeous blue eyes didn’t leave his as she came.

Once her breathing grew level again, Bellamy slipped his hand out of her shorts and began kissing her again. Nothing as desperate or as hungry as before. Just gentle, easy ones. Clarke tugged him on top of her and sighed happily as he relaxed his weight against her. Her fingers wove into his hair, pulling him as close as possible as she kissed him.

“I love you,” he told her.

“I love you,” she whispered back. He kept saying it, and she kept saying it back. Bellamy wasn’t sure how long they went on like that. Maybe just a few minutes. Maybe a few hours. Time didn’t feel like a thing when he was with her.

He kissed below her jaw, and her responding moan was so breathless and warm that his hips rocked into her of their own volition. Bellamy froze. But then, Clarke spread her legs, letting his lower half fall between them. He rocked against her again, this time purposeful yet experimental. Clarke’s hands fell to his lower back, guiding him to keep doing it.

“Baby, fuck,” he growled before burying his face into her neck. He should stop. His cock was achingly hard, and feeling Clarke all soft and warm beneath him would only make that worse.

But before he could pull off her, Clarke rolled them so he was on his back. Without thinking, his hands went to her ass, pulling her against his erection. Clarke’s breath caught. Quickly, she pushed herself up, keeping her palms pressed onto his chest for balance. Her hips moved against him ever so slightly, her bare breasts swaying just above his head as she did.

“Bell,” she said. “Do you like this?”

“Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly.

Another shift of her hips ripped a small moan from the back of his throat. Clarke took her bottom lip between her teeth. Her fingers slowly trailed over his chest, her touch light and gentle. Her brows were knitted in concentration, and he’d kill to know what was going on in that mind of hers.

“Talk to me,” he whispered.

Clarke blinked a few times before her eyes met his. “Could I touch you too?”

His heart stuttered. “You want to?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Clarke slowly shifted so she was straddling his thighs now. Her hands didn’t shake like his did when she unbuttoned the top of his pants. No, Clarke looked at ease and determined.

Shifting his pants down was awkward, though not nearly as awkward as the grunt that fell off his lips when Clarke’s hand first grazed his cock. When she finally got it out of his boxers, Clarke’s lips parted.

“Oh,” she whispered. Before he could ask what that meant, her soft, little hand wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. When she made eye contact, she blushed. “You’re just… really big.”

Bellamy looked down to see her pale hand around his dark, thick cock, and he jerked into her hand at the sight. Slowly, her hand slid up to the head. Her fingers smeared the precum across the head and down his cock. He ended up propping himself up on his elbows so he could watch her.

“Am I doing okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His voice was so rough. All low and broken like he was one flick of the wrist away from falling apart. He fisted the blanket underneath him as soon as he saw Clarke lick her own palm before stroking his cock again. “Baby, fuck.”

Her bright blue eyes met his as her strokes fell into a good rhythm. Under her gaze, he felt so warm and loved. There was no way this was easy for her, not when Finn had guilted and forced her into doing this too many times. And now, she felt safe enough to try it with Bellamy. There’s a small smile on her lips and she’s looking at him with so much love in her eyes.

“I love you,” he told her for probably the hundredth time tonight. “Come here. I need to kiss you.”

“You need to kiss me?” she asked, cocking her head to the side with a small chuckle.

“Yeah. I need to. Really bad,” he smirked. Clarke tried rolling her eyes, but her smile gave her away. Her hand didn’t leave his cock as she leaned over toward him. He kissed her as hard as he could, trying to show her just how desperately he loved her and how much it meant to him that she felt safe enough with him to try all this.

They kept on kissing, even as he came apart in her hand. He moaned into her mouth, bit down on her lip, and told her how much he loves her. The two of them ended up lying side by side again, his pants and her shorts still undone, bare chest against bare chest, kissing slowly under a flickering light post.

Clarke broke the kiss and pointed up above them. “First firefly of the season,” she told him.

“Lightning bug,” he corrected.

“Firefly,” she huffed, sticking her chin up defiantly.

“Fine,” he sighed before kissing her again. “Only because I love you.”

Clarke pulled away to bury her face into his neck. He loved feeling her breath fan out against his throat. His eyes fell shut as he held her close to him, enjoying his last few minutes before Clarke’s phone alarm went off warning them they have fifteen minutes before curfew.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been crying all morning because of this fic. I don't want this story to end.
> 
> First, I want to say thank you to everyone who has read this fic, especially those of you who have been reading along with each update. This has been a difficult and cathartic process, and having your comments and asks about the work really gave me a sense of feeling like I wasn't going through this all alone. It was like you guys were going through the same thing as me. I've felt a weird kind of distance from most people in my life, and I think part of it is that I've been out here sharing one of the most difficult years I've had to live through, a piece of myself that I don't tell the world, and that makes me feel incredibly close to all of you in a way that I'm not sure I can be with other people just yet. 
> 
> Second, the playlist has been made. [ Go check it out! ](https://asroarke.tumblr.com/post/185350030288/where-the-light-wont-find-you-by-asroarke-i)
> 
> Third, I hope you all have enjoyed being on this journey with me. I know it's been hard at times.

“Okay, one more on the porch where we take your first day of school photos,” her mom ordered, snapping her fingers in the direction of the front door. Clarke rolled her eyes as she marched outside, followed by the entourage of Marcus, her mom, and Wells.

Clarke could see the Facebook post now: the picture of her standing with her Winnie the Pooh backpack on this very porch on the first day of Kindergarten put right next to a photo of Clarke in her cap and gown. She gave the best smile she could, but it erupted into a laugh when she saw Wells’ goofy face behind her mom’s camera. “Cut it out!” she yelled at him. When her mom turned around, Wells went back to normal, shrugging innocently. “Okay two more, and then I gotta go.”

The senior class didn’t have to get there for another two hours, but Diyoza emailed Clarke late yesterday afternoon asking her to come in early. She didn’t know exactly what it was about, but she had a feeling it had something to do with Finn.

Her mom ended up getting four more pictures, but Wells saved her from more and led her to his car. Her eyes flickered over to her dad’s old car, and a knot formed in her chest. _One day,_ she told herself. She wasn’t ready yet, but one day, she’d feel safe enough to drive again. One day, she will be able to sit in that car and not look for that red jeep. One day, she’d stop feeling Finn’s hands around her throat whenever she looked at this car.

Clarke shrugged off her cap and gown and slid into Wells’ car. Her mom and Marcus scrambled back into the house, likely realizing that neither of them had showered or dressed for graduation and needed to get going.

“You ready to get the fuck out of this town?” Wells asked.

“I’m ready to get the fuck out of this school,” she replied. But leaving for college… that made her chest clench. Not just because she didn’t feel ready for it, but also because she and Bellamy weren’t going to the same place. Three hours apart wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but it was very different than seeing him every single day. Clarke was dreading it.

The school was a ghost town when Clarke arrived. Wells offered to stay with her, but Clarke waved him off. She’d be around him plenty this summer.

She took a moment to look around the quad. Arkadian really was a beautiful school. She never really appreciated it before. Her head had always been on a swivel, but she was looking for someone specific, not enjoying the view.

Her head was still on a swivel now. At some point today, Clarke would be confronted with the very creature from her nightmares. But her panic wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Maybe it was because she knew this would also be the last time he would get a chance to corner her on this campus.

The administration building wasn’t entirely empty. A few teachers passed her on the walk to Diyoza’s office, each offering their congratulations on making it to graduation. It took everything in her not to snort at each one. It was more of an accomplishment that she lived to see graduation than it was for her to actually graduate.

Diyoza’s door was already open, and with no secretary present to tell Clarke to wait, she just let herself in.

“Ah, there’s Clarke,” Principal Diyoza said with a smile. On her couch sat another woman, one Clarke didn’t recognize. She wore a plain pantsuit and had a notebook sitting in her lap. “Thank you so much for coming in.”

“Is something wrong?” Clarke’s eyes kept darting between Diyoza and the woman on the couch. Diyoza’s smile didn’t match with the hardened look in that woman’s eyes and the way she struggled to force a smile.

“No, not at all. Clarke, this is Indra Woods. She’s auditing the school,” she explained as if that somehow answered why Clarke was brought in. “Basically, it’s her job to make sure that everything at Arkadian is running how it should. She’s looking into our curriculum, our finances, and even our faculty.” Diyoza stepped behind Clarke to shut the door before turning to close the blinds. “I thought it might be helpful for her to hear from one of our best graduating students what her four years at Arkadian have looked like.”

For a second, Clarke wanted to argue that she was the last person Wallace would want talking about Arkadian. But as Diyoza raised her eyebrows, it clicked. That’s why Diyoza brought her here. To tell the auditor directly what Wallace let happen to Clarke.

“Principal Diyoza, I think it would be best if you stepped out,” Indra finally said, clicking her pen. Diyoza looked at Clarke, but she waved her off. Clarke survived being gaslit, assaulted, and strangled. She could easily survive talking about it.

Clarke settled into the chair across from the couch, wincing slightly when she heard the door click shut behind Diyoza. She set her cap and gown on the desk.

“Before we get to my questions, is there anything specific you would like to share about your time here at Arkadian?” Indra asked, not even looking up from her notebook.

She should start from the beginning. That was the logical way to tell the story. But it’s not like anyone believed her back when she was at the beginning. So, Clarke said, “Earlier this semester, I was strangled in the school parking lot. And in a few hours, I’m graduating alongside the boy who strangled me.”

Indra dropped her pen as her head jerked up. The blank, bored expression from before was replaced with a look of horror. Diyoza definitely didn’t warn this poor woman.

“Would you like me to start from the beginning?” Clarke asked, gripping the wooden arm of her chair so hard it felt like it could break.

“Uh, yes,” she replied, blinking rapidly as she reached down to grab her pen. “That would… yeah, that would probably be best.”

“I had a boyfriend, Finn Collins, for the first half of high school. It was not a… healthy relationship,” Clarke started. “After our breakup, he began stalking me both on and off campus. The first time my parents and I came to Headmaster Wallace’s office to discuss this was March of last year.”

Clarke watched as Indra frantically wrote down details, waiting for her hand to slow down before speaking again. “We told him that Finn was harassing me in class and that he was following me home from school. But as you know, Finn’s parents sit on the board.”

Indra’s lips formed a scowl, but she didn’t say a word.

“Even his parents harassed me. I wanted to get restraining order, but Wallace told me that would mean one of us would be removed from the school, and not necessarily him.” This was the point in the story where Bellamy snapped that first night, calling bullshit on this whole thing. Looking back, Clarke should have gotten the restraining order. Then again, there were a lot of things she’d do differently knowing what she knows now.

For a moment, Clarke thought Indra would say something. She looked like she was dying to speak, but she kept her lips firmly together and just nodded along.

“At the end of last year, Finn talked me into trying to kill myself.” Just one year ago, to the day. Clarke shuddered when she realized that. How could she forget she tried to kill herself a year ago? It doesn’t even feel like that was her. It was like having another girl’s memories mixed up with her own. “He’s really good at manipulating me. And he told me there was no one left who wanted me here.”

This was where Indra put her pen down and pushed her notebook to the side. “Did the school know about this?”

“Yes,” Clarke whispered, and that’s when she first felt the tears prickle in her eyes. “I told Headmaster Wallace directly, and he promised that I would be safe when I came back in the fall. But Finn was in almost all my classes. Some of my teachers helped, but others just looked the other way as he harassed me in class.” There was a part of her that felt guilty for saying that. The stronger part of her urged her to say the name. “Mrs. Sydney, specifically.”

Indra scribbled that name down quickly.

“Before Thanksgiving, he…” Clarke ducked her head, trying to get those words out. Why was it still so hard to say them? She had said them before, screamed them even. “Finn sexually assaulted me during lunch.” That’s when the tears broke free. “And not an hour later, Wallace gave me demerits for my skirt being a quarter of an inch too short, like it was somehow—"

Before Clarke could say anything else, Indra had pulled the tissue box from Diyoza’s desk, holding them out to her. She took a few and dabbed below her eyes. She felt like an idiot for working so hard on her eyeliner now. Maybe she could get Wells to bring her makeup bag to campus.

“Was it Finn who strangled you?”

“Yeah. He was angry because I tried to warn this girl from another school about what he did to me,” Clarke sniffled. “So, before school, he found me alone in the parking lot and attacked me. I got a concussion, but I was okay other than that. Finn hasn’t been attending school since, but they’re letting him graduate today. I think he was admitted somewhere.”

She wiped the last of her tears away and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Only recently had people at this school stopped looking at her the way Indra did now. Clarke didn’t have the stomach for it anymore. The idea of leaving this town and going somewhere where no one knew what happened to her sounded so beautiful. No more looks like these. No more walking on eggshells around her. A new start where no one has ever heard of Finn Collins.

“Diyoza and some of the teachers have been trying to help me since the beginning, but none of them can do much when Headmaster Wallace kept making compromises with his parents to let Finn stay,” Clarke admitted. “So, that’s what I thought I should tell you. What were your questions?”

“Forget my questions,” she sighed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m about to spend graduation in the row behind the boy who sexually assaulted and strangled me. No, I’m not okay.” But admitting that felt like a weight had been lifted. She was so tired of having to find a way to be okay with all this.

Indra was quiet for a few moments, looking unsure about what to say. Figuring out how to comfort Clarke wasn’t supposed to be part of her job, after all.

“Did you know that Dante Wallace’s contract is up?” she asked, and Clarke shook her head. “I can’t do anything to fix what happened, but I can do something about Wallace.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Thank you for telling me all this. It couldn’t have been easy.”

It was easier to tell her, a stranger, than it was to talk about it with the people who loved her. That’s why it was easier to open up to Bellamy during that first phone call but it was impossible to talk about it to Wells. Sometimes, it felt like the girl Finn hurt and the girl Clarke has become were strangers to each other. Telling the story to someone who didn’t know her just felt like telling a story she heard. Telling it to someone she loved and seeing their heart break… that felt harder than going through it ever did.

“Thanks for listening,” Clarke mumbled before picking up her cap and gown. “And since you’re auditing the school, you should also know that our textbooks call the Civil War the War Against Northern Aggression and the dress code is sexist.”

Indra picked up her notebook again, a smirk forming on her lips. “How exactly is it sexist?”

“There are three times as many ways that a female student can violate it as opposed to her male counterpart. Also, you know, it’s policing female bodies so that the male faculty aren’t made uncomfortable. If seeing the skin above my knee makes a teacher uncomfortable, he shouldn’t be allowed to teach.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

“I could probably get a list to you,” Clarke laughed. Indra tossed her stuff to the side and stood up, extending her hand out to Clarke. She took it, feeling kind of awkward about shaking her hand. This was normally when someone tried to force a hug onto her and tell her she was going to be okay.

“You be careful, okay?” she said. With a nod, Clarke took her cap and gown and opened the door. Diyoza was lounging in one of the chairs, picking at her nails. Wallace was here now, flipping through paperwork. He glanced up at Clarke, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Then, his eyes flickered behind Clarke, where Indra was standing. “What brings you to campus so early?” he asked Clarke, his jaw tense.

“I asked her to come in. Don’t worry about it,” Diyoza replied, all calm.

Wallace’s eyes flashed between Diyoza and her office where Indra was putting together her notes. His eyes landed on Clarke, and for once, he looked scared.

Good.

“I’ll see you at graduation,” Clarke told him before striding past him. Her feet hurt like hell in those wedges, but it felt so good to leave this office a victor for once.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy was running late for his own graduation. Clarke stepped outside to call and make sure he was on the way. Apparently, Octavia took her sweet time getting ready this morning.

A few parents had started to arrive, no doubt scoping out good seats for graduation. But other than that, it was still blissfully quiet on campus.

Clarke used the back entrance this time, remembering the passive aggressive emails Diyoza sent out about seniors needing to remain out of sight before the ceremony. It was the entrance Clarke usually used anyway, the one by all the locker rooms. Normally, it was empty. But Clarke froze as soon as she saw the familiar figure down the hallway.

Finn was hunched over, bracing his hand on the wall in front of him. He didn’t see Clarke. His head was ducked down so far that he didn’t have a clue Clarke was anywhere near him. Something was wrong.

In all the nightmarish ways Clarke had imagined today, nothing like this ever came up. It was always Finn trying to get her alone, flooding her with apologies, making a scene during the ceremony with everyone watching… never finding Finn all alone, looking about as broken as he had left her that day in the parking lot.

Clarke should go back outside. Use the other entrance. Nothing good could come from being alone when walking past Finn.

Yet, her feet moved forward anyway. Maybe as an act of rebellion, a statement that she isn’t scared of him even though she is. Or maybe his pull on her was still this strong despite everything.

He never looked up. Finn should have looked up. He was always scanning the room for Clarke, never missing an opportunity to get her alone. The perfect opportunity has been dropped in his lap and he hasn’t even noticed.

As she got closer, his labored breathing became audible. Finn was hyperventilating.

There had been rumors about what happened to Finn after he strangled Clarke. Some were easy enough to dismiss. Obviously, his parents hadn’t sent him off to some military school. But others had a ring of truth to them. Specifically, the one about Finn trying to kill himself. That one haunted her when she remembered the last thing she said to him.

_Or did you finally realize that without me you’re the one that has no one that actually loves you?_

If the rumor was true, Clarke prayed those words weren’t what pushed him over. But they might have. After all, when he said that to her, it pushed her over.

In time, she realized it wasn’t true for her. But as she stared at the boy she hated as much as she once loved him, alone and hyperventilating, she knew it was true for him. He has no friends. His parents slap a check onto any problem Finn has ever had but don’t want to deal with him. The only actual love he’s ever known came from Clarke, and he lost her. She tucked that realization away along with her memories of Mr. Collins’ erratic behavior, adding to Clarke’s perpetually incomplete understanding of why Finn hurt her.

Her cautious pace turned into a powerwalk as Clarke approached him. Maybe this was a dumb decision, but there was no one else in Finn’s life who would ever try to help him. If this was the last interaction they would ever have, then Clarke was going to make it a better one, even if he didn’t deserve it. Clarke could help him one last time.

“Put your hands on top of your head,” she told him. His shoulders went rigid at the sound of her voice, but slowly, he pushed himself up and did as she said. Finn’s eyes were bright red, his cheeks covered in tears. Something sharp churned in her stomach at the sight. “How many bricks are in the wall in front of you?”

“I don’t know—”

“Count,” she whispered. Finn fell back against the wall and quietly counted to himself. Clarke’s gaze fell to his cheek. It was redder than the other, like someone hit him.

Clarke’s eyes darted to the back gym where all the seniors were gathered. She had heard everyone talk after finding out that Finn was coming back for graduation. A few of the guys said they’d pop him square in the jaw if Finn showed his face again, but Clarke didn’t think anyone actually would.

“Who hit you?” Her money was on Atom. Maybe Sterling.

“Zoe Monroe.” That, she didn’t see coming. “Everyone hates me.”

Clarke wasn’t taking that bait. He deserved to be hated by everyone here. “Keep counting,” she told him. When she heard him start over, she grabbed a paper cup beside the water fountain and filled it up. The back door opened again, and Clarke spotted Bellamy striding in with his cap and gown on. For a second, he froze, looking between Clarke and Finn.

As he stormed toward them with his shoulders tense and his eyes panicked, Clarke put up her hand, pleading for him to stay calm. His jaw clenched and it was clear he hated this, but his pace slowed, and he said nothing.

“Drink,” Clarke told Finn, handing him the cup. His hand shook as he took it from her, but thankfully their eyes didn’t meet. “It’s a trick I learned at the hospital. Drinking water forces you to regulate your breathing.” Finn winced, no doubt because he was the one who put her in that hospital, and he knew it.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t,” Clarke snapped. “Just drink and keep counting bricks until you’re good enough to go back in.” She reached back behind her, sighing in relief when Bellamy’s hand found hers, and the two of them walked past Finn toward the back gym.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered.

“Save the lecture,” she sighed. “He was having a panic attack.”

“I’m not going to lecture you for having a big heart,” Bellamy told her. “I was going to ask if you were okay.”

Clarke finally turned to face him. His hair was still a little wet from the shower and he looked like he hadn’t quite woken up yet. She wanted to kiss him, though she wasn’t sure getting her red lipstick on him right before graduation was a good idea.

“I think so,” she replied. Bellamy cocked an eyebrow. “No, really. I am.” And she meant it this time. Seeing Finn upset her, sure, but nothing like it used to. It was like being reminded of an unpleasant memory instead of seizing with fear. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good,” he grinned before kissing her cheek. After a beat, he put her tassel on the correct side. “Also, my mom wants lots of pictures of us in our caps and gowns after. Apparently, we robbed her of taking prom photos.”

“Huh. My mom said the same thing,” Clarke chuckled.

Diyoza came in and started barking off orders for everyone to line up. Bellamy snuck one more kiss to Clarke’s cheek before leaving for his spot. Clarke got behind Monty, who was abnormally chatty today. Apparently, Jasper Jordan came back to watch graduation despite getting expelled for getting high in the parking lot on 4/20 last year. Clarke got the impression that Jasper did a lot more than come back for graduation, especially since Monty reeked of marijuana.

Well, it wouldn’t be an Arkadian graduation without someone being high, someone getting punched, and at least three seniors carrying flasks under their gowns.

Finn got in his place in line right before they were about to walk. Clarke didn’t miss the way conversation amongst the seniors died down as soon as he came in. Their eyes met, and for a second, she saw the chatty boy who helped her find the lockers on the first day. Finn nodded at her before jerking his eyes away.

Pomp and Circumstance finally came on, and Clarke gave Bellamy a little wave as he followed the line out the door. Just a few people behind him was Finn, who kept gaze looking forward.

“Is your mom still friends with his mom?” Clarke whispered to Monty. He nodded. “Did she tell her what really happened to him?”

Monty sighed. “He ran away. The police had to be called to help find him,” he whispered right into her ear so no one could hear. “When they found him out by the creek, he had one of his dad’s guns against his forehead.” Her eyes flickered to Finn’s slumped form as he slipped out of the gymnasium. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” And she did. But it weighed on her all the same. Clarke had been hurting for so long, and when she said that horrible thing in the parking lot, all she wanted was for Finn to hurt too. Now that she saw it with her own eyes, she couldn’t help but feel like a monster for wanting it.

They stopped talking as soon as the line started to move. Within minutes, Clarke was walking out into the gymnasium, feeling awkward as she forced a smile. Marcus and her mom kept waving at her frantically, trying to get her attention so they could get a good photo. Wells just laughed behind them.  

The ceremony was long. Everyone and their mother had to give a speech, none of them particularly good. Monty dozed off. Murphy had a running commentary going in the row behind her. Clarke poked Bellamy from behind every time his head started to droop. By the time they all stood up to go get their diplomas, Clarke’s foot had fallen asleep. The line moved quickly, like everyone couldn’t wait to get out of there.

When Clarke’s name was called, she distinctly heard Wells and Marcus screaming for her. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she took the diploma from Diyoza.

Headmaster Wallace was waiting at the edge of the stage, ready to shake her hand. It’d probably be the last interaction she has to have with this man. She could do this. She could suck it up and shake his hand.

Except she couldn’t. She couldn’t stomach his congratulations. Instead, Clarke slid her tassel to the other side, ignored his extended hand, and walked right past him. Maybe it was petty. Or maybe Clarke didn’t want to ever see a photo of her shaking that man’s hand.

There was a long, awkward pause as Clarke made her way down the stairs. Diyoza should have already called out the next student’s name. As Clarke walked back to her seat, she finally resumed reading off names.

Clarke’s face felt hot, like everyone was still staring at her. As she turned the corner to see the half of the seniors that had already walked staring at her, she realized she was right.

Bellamy had a huge smirk on his lips while Clarke got to her seat. Murphy, whose row was now standing up, leaned over to whisper, “A middle finger might have been more subtle.” Clarke swatted his arm before falling back in her seat.

Within a few minutes, Clarke began to relax. Bree tripped in her ridiculous heels, so everyone forgot about Clarke stiffing the Headmaster. She zoned in and out of the rest of the ceremony. It was only when Wallace stepped up to make his closing remarks that Clarke realized it was over.

She had made it. Somehow, Clarke made it through all this hell and came out on the other side.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy and Clarke lasted at Monty’s graduation party for maybe five minutes. It made Wells’ party look like child’s play. So, they said all their hellos and goodbyes and got the hell out of there. They didn’t purposefully end up back at the park, it just kind of happened.

They lied in the bed of the truck like always. In a few weeks, it would be too hot for them to lie together like this, so Clarke savored it.

“Bell?” she whispered, fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Yeah?”

“What happens in August? You know, when we both start college?”

Bellamy sighed, and Clarke forced herself to meet his eyes. “I don’t know,” he told her, and Clarke didn’t like that answer. “It’ll be hard.”

“I know.”

He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his dark eyes impossibly soft. “Hey,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, I’ll still be there. Late night phone calls, and all.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she rested her head against his chest. Bellamy kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll always love you, Clarke. Can’t imagine not loving you, actually.”

“And I’ll always love you,” she promised. Clarke wasn’t delusional. She knew things would change when they left for school in the fall. She knew both of them would change. But Bellamy’s place in her heart never would. He staked his claim on it, and it would be his forever, regardless of if they make this work or not.

Clarke’s arm wrapped around his shoulders as she pulled him in for a slow kiss. Maybe she should be sadder that there was a chance this beautiful thing between them might come to an end one day. But this certainty bloomed in her chest, the one that knew that in some way, she would always have Bellamy. He gave her something she’d never let go of again: hope.

His hand rested on her cheek as he kissed her back. Before long, they ended up like the always did… with Bellamy on top of Clarke kissing her like his life depended on it. Her legs wrapped around him, keeping him close as he grinded his hips into her. His mouth was hot on her lips and skin, desperate in a way that he normally had to work up to.

“Can I touch you?” he mouthed against her neck.

“Yeah.”

In just two weeks, Bellamy had become an expert on making her come. He wasted no time snaking his hand into her shorts and rubbing her clit just the way she liked. Always getting her nice and wet before his fingers fucked into her. He liked seeing how many times he could make her come, getting her to three last Friday night.

This time was no different. His fingers fucked her through two orgasms while he whispered the filthiest things in her ear. Bellamy went back to her clit for the third, kissing her overwhelmed tears away the whole time.

Her legs were still shaking as she came down, her kisses sloppy and wet, though Bellamy didn’t seem to mind. Their kisses slowed, but Clarke still felt pretty keyed up so she grinded down on the bulge growing in his shorts.

“Baby,” he warned. But Clarke kept going. “You want another?”

She was about to say yes when she realized that she wanted something else. A blush took over her cheeks and she buried her face into his shirt.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, his lips ghosting her ear. “Tell me what you want. You want my fingers?”

Clarke bit down on her lip as she pulled her head back to look at him. “No,” she confessed, and Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “I want, um, something else.”

It took him a moment for it to click. “Oh,” he choked out, his eyes going wide.

“Do you… do you want to?” The deer in the headlights look remained on his face. “Or, we don’t have to. Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, and the panic that had begun to rise in her chest was replaced by a warm, buzzing calm.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A small smile took over his lips, the soft kind that always made her heart stutter. “Are you sure you want to?”

Clarke nodded as she slid her hand up into his curls and pulled him down for a slow kiss. Bellamy sighed against her lips, his forehead resting against hers as their lips parted. “I love you, Bell. So much,” she whispered. “I want you. I want this.”

“Okay, so we’re doing this?” Clarke nodded. Bellamy gave her a quick kiss before sitting up. “Alright, let me go get the condoms from the glovebox,” he said before jumping down onto the pavement.

“You already had them?” she chuckled. “That’s a little presumptuous.”

“You literally told me you wanted to have sex with me,” he laughed as he opened the passenger door. “I got them the very next day just in case.”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed with the realization that Bellamy had thought about this for a while now, ever since she first brought it up. He thought about it, went to the store, and kept condoms in his truck this whole time just in case. He never brought it up, didn’t pressure her by bringing it up… just had them for if and when Clarke wanted to.  

When Bellamy jumped back up onto the bed, Clarke pulled him down for a kiss. He laughed into her mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gazed up at her. “Impatient, huh?” he teased, and Clarke swatted his shoulder.

“No, I just love you,” she replied with a small shrug. The smirk on his lips fell as his mouth parted. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I think I do,” he whispered before kissing each corner of her mouth.

The nerves settled as they kissed. Slow, at first, but growing hungrier with each glide of their lips. They only parted to pull shirts off. Clarke laughed into his mouth as Bellamy fumbled with unhooking her bra.

“You could help me,” he grumbled, still not pulling his lips off hers.

“Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to get it off all by yourself?” Clarke teased.

“No, it’d be more satisfying to get this thing off already,” he grunted before finally unhooking it. “Ha!” This time, Clarke did pull away from their kiss so she could bury her face into his bare shoulder and laugh. Bellamy flung her bra to the side before his fingers tilted her chin up. “You laughing at me?” he smirked, and Clarke had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing any harder.

“No,” she lied before Bellamy pushed her to lie on her back. His weight settled over her, his mouth devouring hers. Clarke’s hands slid up and down his muscled back, loving the way his warm skin felt beneath her fingertips.

His mouth travelled all over her jaw and neck, settling on her breasts. There’s something so primal and hungry about the way Bellamy touches and kisses her tits. His eyes were dark and focused as he squeezed them, watching her breasts spill out of his hands. Clarke could get lost in the way he’s looking at her now.

His mouth lowered onto her nipple. His eyes flashed up to meet hers, sending a rush of arousal through her. His eyes didn’t leave hers as his tongue laved over her nipple and flicked it to hardness. He repeated this on the other, taking his sweet time. As soon as his lips left her skin, Clarke pulled him up for a kiss.

“I need you,” she breathed into his mouth.

“Right now?”

“Right now.” She couldn’t take the teasing anymore. “I want to feel you.”

“Shit, baby,” Bellamy growled. Reluctantly, they pulled apart, both trying to get their shorts off gracefully. Neither of them succeeded in the graceful part. While Bellamy struggled to get the condom packet open, Clarke slipped her panties down her thighs and set them next to her bra.

She lied back down on the blanket, and slowly, it dawned on her that she was naked. She didn’t even think twice about undressing in front of Bellamy, when just a year ago the idea of Finn seeing her naked before she lost weight was a source of nightmares. The insecurity began to creep back into her mind.

But then, Bellamy’s head snapped in her direction, his eyes soft and warm as he raked over her body. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice low and wrecked. That voice sent a shiver up her body.

Bellamy’s lips remained parted as he stared at her. His hands rubbed up her thighs before sliding up her waist. It was hard to remember why Clarke felt like covering up when his touch felt so reverential.

After a beat, he pulled back. Clarke propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Bellamy slid the condom onto his cock. The sight of it was as much intimidating as it was exciting. Bellamy was going to be inside her, close in a way he had never been before. In a way no one had been before.

He must have caught her staring because he whispered, “Are you sure?”

Her eyes flickered up to his. Concern washed over the hunger from earlier. “So sure,” she reassured, a smile forming as soon as Bellamy’s eyes relaxed again. “Can we—”

“Yeah,” he said, all breathy and warm. His fingers went back to her cunt, slowly stroking her clit again. Clarke squirmed against his hand, about to whine for more when he pulled his hand back. Her protest died in her throat as she watched Bellamy press his cock against her entrance.

She stayed propped up on her elbows, watching intently as the head of his cock disappeared inside her. The stretch burned, like his fingers did the first time he got a third inside her.

“Good?” Bellamy whispered.

“Good,” she choked out. Bellamy kept pressing deeper and deeper until his cock completely disappeared inside her. When he pulled out, his cock looked shinier like his fingers always did. The next thrust inside her went easier, though she could still feel the uncomfortable stretch.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he growled, sending a flutter through Clarke’s chest. She stole a glance at his face. Bellamy was staring down at where they were joined, his jaw tense like he was holding back.

“Bell,” she whispered, and those hungry eyes flickered up to meet hers. Warmth flooded her body. “Kiss me.”

A smile tugged at his lips while he draped himself back over her. His lips fell hard on hers, drawing out a moan she hadn’t realized she had been holding in. Bellamy’s hips kept rocking into her while they kissed, his cock working in and out of her easier now.

“I love you,” he hummed against her mouth.

Clarke’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder, her hand combing through his curls. “I love you,” she whispered back.

She lost track of how many times they said that while rocking into each other. They didn’t even sound like words anymore, just breathy, desperate sounds that were barely audible over the wet slapping of skin.

The heat was starting to get to Clarke. When she pushed her hair back, it was damp with sweat. Bellamy mouthed at her jaw and neck, his breath hot as he whispered that he loved her. It was a delirious kind of hot, the kind she didn’t want to stop feeling.

His hand pushed her leg up higher, making his cock sink deeper into her. Clarke clung harder to Bellamy. “I want you close,” she whispered. “I love feeling you here.”

“Okay, okay,” he hummed into her skin. His hand rested below her jaw as if holding onto her. “You’re so beautiful, baby. And perfect, fuck.”

The next rock of his hips pushed so deep that Clarke cried out. Bellamy’s mouth found hers and swallowed the moan.

That feeling she always got before Bellamy made her come rushed back in. Her eyes fluttered shut, trying to chase it.

“I won’t last long, shit,” Bellamy mumbled. “Baby, can you give me another?”

“Uh huh,” Clarke choked out. “Close. I’m close.”

“Please,” he begged, his lips dragging across her cheeks. “Come on, baby. Come for me. I need it.”

Maybe it was his words. Or the wrecked way they fell off his lips. Or that his cock hit that spot that made her toes curl.

Clarke’s nails dug into his back as the orgasm washed through her. Her mouth ran the whole time, though wasn’t sure what she was saying. Bellamy cursed into her skin, his hips stuttering against her. Whatever rhythm they had fallen into was gone, replaced with them desperately grasping at each other and blurry movements.

His hips stopped rocking into her. Clarke loosened her thighs around Bellamy. Their eyes met, and neither of them dared move. If it were possible, Clarke would live in this exact moment forever.

“I love you,” she whispered. Who knows how many times she told him that tonight alone? But it was still a miracle every time it fell off her lips. Magic, even. She loved and was loved in return. If that wasn’t a miracle, Clarke wasn’t sure anything could be.

“And I love you,” he grinned. Clarke pushed back his damp hair before he leaned in for a slow kiss.

She whined when he finally pulled out of her. The soreness between her legs was immediate, but she kind liked it. The ache felt beautiful when she remembered what made her so sore. Every time she pushed her legs too close together or tried to cross them on the drive back to her house, the ache reminded her that Bellamy was inside her tonight, telling her that he loved her and taking such good care of her. Plus, there was this smug smirk on his lips every time she mentioned being sore.

“You look real proud of yourself,” she teased as Bellamy pulled into her driveway.

“You love me,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I do,” she sighed. Bellamy put the truck in park and jogged to her side before she got the chance to open the door herself. “Are you always going to open my door?” she teased.

“Always,” he smirked. Clarke hopped down onto the pavement then stood up on her toes to peck his lips. They walked hand in hand up to the door. Clarke looked through the windows for any sign of her mom or Marcus watching, but they weren’t anywhere to be seen.

“You’ll call me when you get home, right?”

“Yes. Think you can wait that long?” he teased.

“I’ll try,” she pouted before wrapping her arms around his neck. Bellamy laughed as he leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste one. They always were when he dropped her off. Wouldn’t want her mom catching them kissing like they normally do. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Another quick kiss and Bellamy started toward the steps. Clarke waited until the last possible second to let go of his hand.

Inside, she expected someone to rush to the door to greet her and ask her a lot of invasive questions about the party Clarke barely went to. But instead, she found her mom and Marcus asleep on the couch together, with the TV Guide channel playing on the screen. Taking pity on them, Clarke turned it off and covered them with a blanket.

Clarke took her time getting ready for bed. She changed into an oversized t-shirt and pulled on Bellamy’s hoodie. Still minutes away from Bellamy calling, she pulled her composition book out of her closet and began writing down all the details of tonight she could remember. How hot it was, the way his lips dragged against her skin, how deep inside her he got. Her smile hadn’t dimmed since Bellamy dropped her off, and her cheeks began to ache.

Before she could finish, he finally called.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby,” he whispered, all low and warm like he was whispering it right into her ear. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to how his voice made her stomach flip and filled her chest with warmth.

Clarke cast her composition book to the side. She could finish it tomorrow. She turned her lamp off, pulled his hoodie tighter, and got comfortable against her pillow. If she closed her eyes and focused on the smell from his jacket, it felt like he was holding her again.

“Tell me something.”

**Author's Note:**

> y'all can always find me on tumblr and twitter (@asroarke) or just scream shawn mendes' name into the sky and I'll hear you that way


End file.
